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Shivers Movie Script

Writer(s) : David Cronenberg

Genres : Horror, Sci-Fi

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                                        "SHIVERS"

                                      Screenplay by

                                     David Cronenberg

                                      SHOOTING DRAFT

                                           1975

                

               EXT. STARLINER TOWERS APARTMENT COMPLEX -- MORNING

               Starliner Towers is seen in LS through the windshield of a 
               moving car. The car approaches the complex and stops near 
               the main doors of the West Tower.

               Out of the car climb Kresimir and Benda Sviben, a gawky newly 
               wed young couple. Kresimir elaborately opens the door for 
               Benda, his new wife, and they walk with hands intertwined up 
               the steps of the West Tower.

               INT. LOBBY -- MORNING

               As the Svibens approach the main doors, the doorman leaps up 
               from his chair beside the intercom switchboard and opens the 
               door for them. The doorman, like most security guards, does 
               not look capable of handling a serious crisis. He is about 
               fifty, of average height but slightly built, wears thick 
               glasses and seems almost embarrassed by the revolver on his 
               hip.

                                     DOORMAN
                         Morning, folks. Can I help you?

                                     KRESIMIR
                         Yes, please. I... er, we... are 
                         looking for the rental agent here. 
                         We have an appointment.

                                     DOORMAN
                         OK, I'll just give him a little buzz 
                         and he'll come out and show you the 
                         way in.

               The doorman presses a button on the intercom board. As he 
               turns back to the Svibens, he catches his holster on the 
               board.

                                     DOORMAN
                              (freeing holster)
                         Darned thing.

                                     BENDA
                         Do you ever use that?

                                     DOORMAN
                         This? No, never even had it out of 
                         the holster. A rival company has 
                         'em, so we gotta have 'em. Just an 
                         advertising gimmick.

               INT. ANNABELLE'S APARTMENT -- MORNING

               Dr. Emil Hobbes, a huge, florid, bearded man, is strangling 
               Annabelle Horsefield. Despite the difference in their sizes -- 
               Annabelle is tall and slender, about seventeen -- Hobbes is 
               not having an easy time of it. Hobbes is wearing overlarge 
               blue jeans and a red plaid shirt; Annabelle is in a private 
               girls' school outfit -- white blouse, dark blue tie, blue 
               knee socks, pleated gray skirt.

               Annabelle fights back fiercely; Hobbes has tears in his eyes. 
               The struggle takes them all over her apartment, which, 
               although sparsely furnished, presents enough objects in their 
               way to cause a lot of crashing around. At one point Annabelle 
               breaks loose and Hobbes has to chase her.

               Annabelle slips and Hobbes manages to pin her to the ground, 
               where he has the advantage of leverage. He strangles her 
               quickly and with tremendous, crazy energy. Blood oozes from 
               her mouth. Hobbes places his hand over her mouth as though 
               trying to prevent her from speaking, or to prevent something 
               from leaving her body.

               He reaches over to his leather doctor's bag, which has spilled 
               some of its contents on to the floor, finds a surgical clamp, 
               and clamps Annabelle's lips together. He then picks up her 
               body, carries it over to the dining-room table and sweeps 
               the few cups and bottles on it off on to the floor. He then 
               places her body with great tenderness on the table and begins 
               to undress it.

               INT. LOBBY -- MORNING

               The doorman leaves the Svibens to open the door for the 
               Spergazzis, an elderly Italian couple who both use aluminum, 
               four-pronged canes to help them walk. The Svibens watch the 
               old couple as they enter and then glance at each other 
               significantly -- 'We'll be together when we're as old as 
               they are.'

               Mr. Spergazzi tips his hat to the doorman, who opens the 
               inner door for him.

               As the Spergazzis make their way shakily toward the elevators, 
               Mr. Merrick, the rental agent, appears from around a corner. 
               He is slick, mustachioed, and wears a wide paisley tie. He 
               extends his hand for a handshake even though he is still 
               fifty feet from the inner doors. The doorman keeps the door 
               open for him.

                                     DOORMAN
                         Here's Mr. Merrick. He'll take you 
                         on in.

                                     MERRICK
                              (ingratiatingly)
                         Welcome to Starliner Towers. And you 
                         are...?

                                     KRESIMIR
                         Kresimir and Benda Sviben.

                                     MERRICK
                         Eh? Oh yes, of course. Mr. and Mrs. 
                         Sweden. Come right this way. Sorry 
                         to keep you waiting. Now, are we 
                         talking about one or two bedrooms? I 
                         assume we're not talking about 
                         bachelors, eh? Ha, ha. Now, I have 
                         several floor plans all laid out for 
                         you, and all you have to do is take 
                         your choice and we'll trot right on 
                         up there and take a look at 'em...

               The three disappear around a corner.

               The doorman pulls a Harlequin Nurse Romance out of his jacket 
               and sits down to continue reading it.

               INT. ANNABELLE'S APARTMENT -- MORNING

               Hobbes ties a green surgical mask over his mouth and nose, 
               snaps on rubber gloves.

               He turns to Annabelle's corpse on the dining-room table, 
               legs hanging over the edge, now naked -- the private girls' 
               school clothes in a heap on the floor. Hobbes takes a scalpel 
               from the top of the radiator where he has laid out his 
               surgical instruments. He feels Annabelle's stomach until he 
               has found what he wants, then cuts her open with one smooth, 
               confident stroke of the scalpel.

               He then quickly douses the inside of her abdomen with some 
               clear fluid in a squeeze bottle, lights a wooden match, and 
               drops it into her abdominal cavity. The corpse bursts into 
               flame.

               Hobbes steps back to watch. Tears spring into his eyes. He 
               picks up another scalpel and perfunctorily sticks it into 
               his neck. Blood spurts into his mask and soaks through to 
               the other side. Hobbes sinks to his knees before the blazing 
               corpse and struggles to draw the scalpel through the tendons 
               of his neck.

               INT. RENTAL OFFICE -- MORNING

               Merrick and the Svibens sit across from each other at a long 
               table strewn with floor plans and maps. The river which 
               surrounds the complex can be seen through the glass walls of 
               the office. Merrick taps one plan with his finger and slides 
               it over to Benda.

                                     MERRICK
                         Now you take a look at that one, 
                         Brenda, and tell me if it doesn't 
                         suit you down to the ground. That 
                         one has the big view, the panoramic 
                         view...

               INT. TUDOR'S APARTMENT -- MORNING

               In his bathroom, Nicholas Tudor is cleaning his teeth with 
               microscopic attention to detail using an elaborate compressed-
               water device called a water-pick. Tudor is thirty-nine, not 
               happy with his work as an insurance appraiser, and has 
               recently adopted a general air of terse, sullen desperation 
               as his primary mood.

               His wife, Janine, calls to him from the kitchen, where she 
               is just putting the finishing touches on breakfast.

                                     JANINE (V.O.)
                         Breakfast is just about ready, Nick.

               Tudor pointedly doesn't answer, but continues with the water-
               pick until he is completely satisfied. He carefully packs 
               the machine away, then leaves the bathroom.

               In the dining room, Janine is putting breakfast on the table. 
               Tudor sits down without a word and begins to eat. Janine 
               returns to the kitchen and comes back with a cup of coffee 
               in each hand. She puts one cup in front of Tudor, sits down, 
               starts to drink the other one. After a pause, she speaks.

                                     JANINE
                         Can I call you at the office?

                                     TUDOR
                         What do you want to call me at the 
                         office for?

                                     JANINE
                         I don't know. I just thought I might 
                         want to call you. I don't know.

                                     TUDOR
                         I won't be at the office except to 
                         sign in.
                              (he eats heartily, 
                              not looking directly 
                              at Janine)
                         I've got a lot of claims to check 
                         out. All over the place. Garages and 
                         more garages.
                              (noticing Janine's 
                              silence, he finally 
                              looks up)
                         I'll come home right after work.

               Janine continues to toy with the food in her plate. She shrugs 
               once, as if to say, 'Big deal, so what?' Tudor ignores her 
               and finishes breakfast.

               INT. A HALLWAY -- MORNING

               Tudor leaves his apartment, closing the door behind him (we 
               see the number clearly).

               He walks down the hallway on automatic pilot, obviously 
               preoccupied, turning the corner leading to the elevators 
               without perceiving what he is seeing.

               At the elevators he hesitates for a moment, then presses the 
               UP button. When the door opens, he steps in.

               INT. ELEVATOR -- MORNING

               In the elevator are Merrick, the rental agent, and the 
               Svibens.

                                     MERRICK
                         We're going up.

                                     TUDOR
                         Oh. Well, I'll go along for the ride.

                                     MERRICK
                              (after a pause, to 
                              the Svibens, 
                              indicating the 
                              elevator)
                         Wood-grain paneling, strong, silent, 
                         fireproof, fast, cushioned ride. 
                         Everything you could want in an 
                         elevator.

               Nobody says another word until the doors spring open and 
               Merrick, after a wink at Tudor, hustles the Svibens out of 
               the elevator.

               As the doors close, Merrick's voice floats back to Tudor.

                                     MERRICK (V.O.)
                         Notice how the entranceways to all 
                         the apartments are recessed and 
                         individually lit... Nope, it's down 
                         that way, Brenda. That's it... 
                         Recessed and individually lit...

               Once the door has closed, Tudor presses the button for the 
               top floor. As the elevator ascends, he takes out his wallet 
               and removes a key from a zippered compartment.

               INT. HALLWAY -- MORNING

               Tudor fits the key into the lock of Annabelle's apartment. 
               He knocks gently and then opens the door. After a pause he 
               steps in and closes the door behind him, not wanting to be 
               seen by anyone who might know him.

               INT. ANNABELLE'S APARTMENT -- MORNING

               As soon as he is inside the apartment, Tudor knows that 
               something is seriously wrong. Smoke hangs in the air and the 
               smell of burned flesh attacks Tudor's nostrils. He is on his 
               way to the bedroom when he sees Hobbes's foot around the 
               corner of the dining room.

               Tudor approaches the dining room with his hand over his nose 
               and mouth.

               Annabelle's corpse is still smoking where it lies on the 
               dining-room table. Hobbes's body is twisted into the fetal 
               position at the foot of the table, one hand still clutching 
               the scalpel stuck in its neck, the floor beneath it bright 
               with blood.

               Tudor winces as though stuck with a pin. Blinking rapidly, 
               he edges around the room until his angle of vision is such 
               that he can see the head of the corpse on the table. It is 
               definitely Annabelle, eyes still staring, surgical clip still 
               attached to her lips, purple bruises on her neck.

               Tudor turns, his body contracting around the pit of his 
               stomach. After a moment he manages to straighten up and 
               stagger from the apartment, having at least enough presence 
               of mind to take his attach� case, which he left by the door, 
               and to close the door behind him.

               INT. ANNABELLE'S APARTMENT -- AFTERNOON

               Dr. Roger St. Luc, tall, thin, dark, not bad-looking, stands 
               over the table staring at the corpse of Annabelle. As he 
               watches, two ambulance men throw a sheet over her and begin 
               to lift her down on to a stretcher on the floor. The voice 
               of the superintendent of the building drifts over to him 
               from the other end of the apartment.

                                     SUPER (V.O.)
                         Like I said to the police officer, 
                         he paid the rent, Dr. Hobbes did. 
                         And he came around and chatted a lot 
                         with everyone here, the staff, I 
                         mean. Nice guy. Not a high and mighty 
                         type. But it was her name on the 
                         residency list and the buzzer board: 
                         Annabelle... what was it again?... 
                         Annabelle Horsefield. She never 
                         complained about anything, not to 
                         me, anyway.

               The super, a small, unshaven, harassed little man with a lot 
               of energy, is talking to a large beefy detective who writes 
               everything down in a notebook.

                                     DETECTIVE
                              (pointing to 
                              Annabelle's corpse, 
                              which is just being 
                              carried out the door)
                         And that was her. Annabelle Horse... 
                         field.

                                     SUPER
                         Far as I know, yeah, that was her.

               The detective now turns to St. Luc, who is crouched on the 
               floor examining the chalk outline around where Hobbes's body 
               had lain.

                                     DETECTIVE
                         Is that the man who called you up 
                         here?

                                     SUPER
                         Yeah, that's Dr. St. Luc. He's the 
                         head of our little medical clinic 
                         here.

                                     DETECTIVE
                         Medical clinic?

                                     SUPER
                         Yeah. This is an island, you know? 
                         Takes too long to get into the city. 
                         We gotta have everything right here 
                         or somebody complains.

                                     DETECTIVE
                         Well, let's go talk to your doctor.

               The detective walks over to St. Luc and the super follows. 
               St. Luc rises to meet him. He is wearing very informal summer 
               clothes, a bit rumpled.

                                     DETECTIVE
                         Dr. St. Luc? Detective-Sergeant 
                         Heller. I'd like to ask you a few 
                         questions.

                                     ST. LUC
                              (obviously a bit dazed 
                              by what he has been 
                              seeing)
                         Sure.

                                     DETECTIVE
                         You're the one who found the bodies?

                                     ST. LUC
                         Yes.

                                     DETECTIVE
                         Did you touch anything? Move anything 
                         before we got here?

                                     ST. LUC
                         No, nothing.

                                     DETECTIVE
                         You knew these people?

                                     ST. LUC
                         I knew the man, Emil Hobbes, a doctor 
                         and a professor at university. I saw 
                         the girl around the building but I 
                         didn't know her. She never came to 
                         the clinic.

                                     DETECTIVE
                         So you just came up to visit this 
                         Hobbes and you found them like that?

                                     ST. LUC
                         Oh, no. I haven't seen Dr. Hobbes 
                         since I was in medical school. He 
                         taught me... he was my prof in urology 
                         and... I think he conducted a few 
                         seminars in psychopharmacology. That 
                         was it. I had no idea he'd ever set 
                         foot in Starliner Towers until today.

                                     DETECTIVE
                         I see. Then what brought you up here?

               St. Luc begins to pace about as he talks.

                                     ST. LUC
                         It was very strange. He called me at 
                         six this morning. Hobbes called me. 
                         I thought I was dreaming. I haven't 
                         heard that voice for so long. He 
                         told me who it was, then he said 
                         something like, 'Meet me at apartment 
                         1208 at noon. I want you to go out 
                         for lunch with me. It's time you 
                         furthered your education.' Then he 
                         laughed and hung up. I went back to 
                         sleep. He called me again at eight 
                         to remind me to come.

                                     DETECTIVE
                         How did he sound this time? Was he 
                         nervous? Depressed?

                                     ST. LUC
                         He sounded fine.

               The telephone rings. The super, who has been fiddling with a 
               window with a cracked pane of glass, grabs the phone 
               instinctively without looking at the detective, who probably 
               would have answered it himself.

                                     SUPER
                              (pause)
                         Who? No, that's not me. You got the 
                         wrong guy. Just a sec.
                              (looks up at St. Luc 
                              and holds out the 
                              phone to him)
                         It's for you. Somebody wants to know 
                         how come you didn't show up for lunch.

               The detective looks suspiciously at St. Luc, who simply looks 
               dazed.

               INT. ROLLO LINSKY'S LABORATORY -- AFTERNOON

               Next to a shallow porcelain tray full of immense and grotesque 
               marine worm specimens lies a large parcel wrapped in brown 
               paper. Rollo's plump fingers eagerly open the package to 
               reveal a large variety of delicatessen sandwiches and 
               accessories.

               Rollo offers some to St. Luc while stuffing one in his own 
               mouth. There are Cokes and old coffees everywhere, plus 
               mustard, relish, and ketchup dispensers of all kinds. Rollo 
               and St. Luc sit around Rollo's desk, a very sleek metal 
               affair.

               Rollo's lab itself is a combination of modern office and 
               biology room in a museum of natural history. Specimens of 
               all kinds, in bottles and cases, mounted on glass and wood, 
               floating in preservative baths, are everywhere. There are 
               also a few cages of living insects, moldy aquaria and lab 
               cultures in various stages of neglect.

               There are also clippings from magazines and newspapers 
               sporting furious underlinings and circlings in red ink which 
               are stuck to walls, doors, bookshelves.

               Despite the potential for chaos, however, there is an 
               underlying order which reflects Rollo's own real discipline, 
               which is not always immediately apparent. And the microscopes 
               and glass slides, the stainless-steel gynecological table 
               complete with stirrups, metal drug and instrument cabinet, 
               etc., are spotless and in good shape.

               Rollo is rotund, soft-faced, and a manic-depressive. In his 
               manic phase he is a joker and an elbow-nudger, and his general 
               style, even when discussing medical matters in medical jargon, 
               is broad North-American Jewish. In his depressive phase, he 
               becomes a sullen kid who has an oddly sinister aspect to his 
               character.

               Rollo detaches himself from his baby beef in order to comment 
               on the food that, not so secretly, he loves best of all.

                                     ROLLO
                         Not exactly the kind of lunch Hobbes 
                         would have laid on you, Rog, but 
                         it's all I got, and...
                              (places hand on heart, 
                              leans over 
                              confidentially)
                         ...all I got I share with you. Go 
                         ahead. Take all you want.

                                     ST. LUC
                         You touch my spleen, Rollo.
                              (they giggle at an 
                              old medical-school 
                              reference)
                         And here all the time I was thinking -- 
                         if I ever bothered to think about 
                         the good old days -- well, at least 
                         there's Rollo. He's in VD and he's 
                         happy.

                                     ROLLO
                         I'm still a VD man under the skin, 
                         Rog. You know me. I'm a down-to-earth 
                         kinda guy, right?

                                     ST. LUC
                         Well, at least you still talk the 
                         same.

                                     ROLLO
                         So who changes?

                                     ST. LUC
                         But you gave up your private practice. 
                         Suddenly you're into pure research 
                         and you... you're what, a 
                         parasitologist?

                                     ROLLO
                         That was my father's idea... private 
                         practice. He wanted to set me up -- 
                         I couldn't say no. But he's dead 
                         now. And me, I'm still a snoop, I 
                         gotta do research. Look at that 
                         beautiful stuff...
                              (gestures everywhere)
                         ...lookit it!

               He jams a final piece of sandwich into his mouth and jumps 
               to his feet, smiling broadly.

                                     ROLLO
                              (with great enthusiasm, 
                              indicating the entire 
                              lab)
                         This is the 'Satyr's Tongue'!

               He pulls a book off a shelf with a bookmark in it. He opens 
               the book at the marked page and hands it to St. Luc. As St. 
               Luc looks at the picture of a satyr with his tongue hanging 
               out and reads the brief note on how medieval alchemists 
               thought the ground-up tongue of the satyr could cure any 
               disease, Rollo continues to talk.

                                     ROLLO
                         The note includes a warning against 
                         swallowing the tongue whole, but we 
                         don't see the rest of this caution. 
                         'Satyr's Tongue' was Hobbes's code 
                         name for our project. What we were 
                         trying to do was to find an 
                         alternative to organ transplants.

               As Rollo speaks, he walks all over the place, picking up and 
               discarding various charts, specimens, bottled and diseased 
               human organs, etc.

               As he moves around, we catch glimpses of Letrasetted signs 
               that Rollo has tacked up: 'Sex is the invention of a clever 
               venereal disease -- Hobbes'; 'Dr. Hobbes's prescription: 
               starve a fever, feed an obsession'; 'The road of excess leads 
               to knowledge'; plus several pictures of satyrs with their 
               tongues sticking out, being cut off by alchemists, etc.

                                     ROLLO
                         I know. You're bored already. 
                         Transplants are yesterday's kishkas, 
                         right?

                                     ST. LUC
                              (shaking his head in 
                              protest)
                         Did I say anything?

                                     ROLLO
                              (excited, waving 
                              specimens of parasites 
                              and diseased organs 
                              around)
                         Look. You got men, you got parasites 
                         that live in, on, and around men. 
                         Now. Why not breed a parasite that 
                         does something useful? Eh? Why not 
                         breed a parasite capable of taking 
                         over the function of any one of a 
                         bunch of human organs? Why not, for 
                         example, a parasite living in the 
                         human abdominal cavity that plugs 
                         into the circulatory system and 
                         filters the blood like a kidney? If 
                         it takes a little blood for itself, 
                         so what? Be generous! You can afford 
                         it.

               He is now in full flight. He leans over St. Luc and begins 
               to demonstrate what he says by drawing things on St. Luc's 
               stomach with his fingers. St. Luc can't hide his amusement.

                                     ROLLO
                         You put the bug into the body of a 
                         man with a diseased kidney, the bug 
                         attacks the bad kidney, dissolves 
                         it, it's assimilated by the body, 
                         and now you got a perfectly good 
                         parasite where you used to have a 
                         rotten kidney. I know what you're 
                         gonna say. You're gonna say it's 
                         crazy.

                                     ST. LUC
                              (laughing)
                         It's crazy.

               Rollo throws himself back into his chair and grabs a pickle.

                                     ROLLO
                         Right. It's crazy. But here's the 
                         beauty part. Ready?
                              (leans forward for 
                              emphasis)
                         Who cares?

                                     ST. LUC
                         I don't get it.

                                     ROLLO
                         You know and I know that Hobbes was 
                         a lousy teacher, eh? Lousy. Dry, 
                         academic, afraid of women, lousy. 
                         But he was always a genius at one 
                         thing -- getting grants. Could he 
                         get grants for crazy projects?

               St. Luc is about to say something, but Rollo answers his own 
               rhetorical question with a flip of the hand, effectively 
               silencing St. Luc.

                                     ROLLO
                         You know who pays the rent here? Eh? 
                         The Northern Hemisphere Organ 
                         Transplant Society. And that's for 
                         something that's supposed to put 
                         them outta business. And they're not 
                         the only ones. We got grant money 
                         coming out of our ears.

               He leaps up again and pulls a sheaf of reprints from medical 
               journals like the Journal of Venereal Disease, etc. He shoves 
               them under St. Luc's nose, then grabs a jar with a 
               disintegrating octopus-like creature in it and a sandwich at 
               the same time. He smacks down the sandwich in front of St. 
               Luc by mistake, then retrieves it and substitutes the jar 
               with the specimen.

               St. Luc sifts through the papers and glances at the specimen.

               As St. Luc looks at the papers, Rollo breathes heavily down 
               his neck and points out things of interest.

                                     ROLLO
                         See? There? You take a little of 
                         this... that's a very rare venereal 
                         disease you get in the nomadic Crinua 
                         people, Northeast Asia and Japan.
                              (points to a sexy 
                              picture of a Japanese 
                              lady in heat)
                         Oo. That one's got it bad. They call 
                         it Batinh. That means 'kiss' or 
                         'caress.' When you get it it makes 
                         your lips itchy, ya wanta kiss 
                         everything. I even had it once. I 
                         always get everything at least once 
                         so I know what the patient's talking 
                         about.
                              (he laughs but he's 
                              serious)
                         And there... you take a little of 
                         that... that's beautiful, isn't it? 
                         That's Flexipes, the world's only 
                         cephalopod parasite.
                              (indicating the jar)
                         That's him right there. Not a very 
                         good specimen. Related to squids and 
                         octopuses. See? He lives in the guts 
                         of whales and big dolphins.
                              (wiggles a finger at 
                              the specimen)
                         Ya like 'em big 'n hot 'n wet, don't 
                         ya? Yeah.

               He walks away from the desk. His manner is now more subdued 
               and reflective. It seems as though everything he says provokes 
               a dozen unspoken thoughts. His depressive phase is beginning.

                                     ROLLO
                         We don't do it all here, we send out 
                         to have tricky stuff done... the 
                         cell fusion, enucleation, chromosomal 
                         fission, all that fancy close work.

               Rollo sighs heavily. St. Luc gently shoves all the papers 
               aside.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Rollo, how come Hobbes killed himself?

               Rollo toys with the gynecological examination table, sliding 
               the stirrups in and out on their adjustment bars.

                                     ROLLO
                              (shrugging)
                         Funny in the head. High suicide rate 
                         in the medical profession. Too much 
                         body, alla time bodies, bodies.

               He now gets close to St. Luc, putting an arm around his 
               shoulder.

                                     ROLLO
                         Rog, I gotta talk serious to you. 
                         Really. Listen. Ya listening? OK. I 
                         want you to come into this with me. 
                         To tell the honest-to-God truth, I'm 
                         lonely.
                              (begins to pace around 
                              again)
                         All Hobbes ever did was run around 
                         getting money and phone me in the 
                         middle of the night. He wanted you 
                         in anyway. That's why we were gonna 
                         get together, the three of us. We 
                         would have enough to keep us going 
                         for at least five years, even with 
                         inflation.

                                     ST. LUC
                              (a bit uncomfortable 
                              being put on the 
                              spot)
                         Rollo, you know me. Once a GP, always 
                         a GP.

                                     ROLLO
                              (almost angrily)
                         You want to help sick people for the 
                         rest of your life? God forbid I should 
                         talk you out of it.

                                     ST. LUC
                         You oughta be careful yourself. Might 
                         end up cutting your throat.

                                     ROLLO
                         It was women did it to Hobbes. 
                         Couldn't handle them. That girl, 
                         that Annabelle -- talk about crazy 
                         projects.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Who was she?

                                     ROLLO
                              (reluctant to talk)
                         Aw, he met her when he was lecturing 
                         at some private girls' school. They 
                         caught him examining her little tits 
                         for breast cancer in the faculty 
                         lounge. She was twelve. Don't ask. 
                         It was craziness, believe me.
                              (indicating the 
                              gynecological table)
                         They used to come here sometimes.
                              (shakes his head)
                         Don't ask.

               He starts to run down like a spring-wound toy at the end of 
               its run. He glances at a picture of Annabelle stuck in a 
               corner, which St. Luc just notices for the first time.

                                     ROLLO
                         I'll never really understand how he 
                         could do what he did to her.

               St. Luc looks at his watch and gets up out of his chair for 
               the first time.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Well, Rollo Linsky... I gotta go 
                         open up the store. It's been great 
                         to see you again.

               He moves toward the door. Rollo trails after him, head down, 
               obviously dejected.

                                     ROLLO
                         Yeah, sure.

               They shake hands. St. Luc has to open the door himself -- 
               Rollo is really preoccupied. Finally he looks St. Luc in the 
               eye.

                                     ROLLO
                         But you'll think about what I said 
                         about working together, huh?

                                     ST. LUC
                         OK. I'll think about it.

               Rollo manages a smile. St. Luc leaves, closing the door behind 
               him.

               INT. TUDOR'S APARTMENT -- MORNING

               In his bathroom, Nick Tudor cleans his teeth with the water-
               pick as usual. The sounds of Janine bustling about with 
               breakfast filter into the bathroom. Tudor hums tunelessly.

               Suddenly, he doubles over in a soundless spasm of pain. The 
               water-pick writhes in the sink, shooting water on to the 
               mirror and over the floor.

               After a moment he straightens up and begins to press around 
               the area of his navel, obviously looking for lumps which it 
               seems -- from his expression -- he has already found and is 
               overly familiar with.

               The water-pick continues to rattle around in the sink. Janine 
               pokes her head around the corner to investigate. Tudor tries 
               to cover up, grabs the water-pick, and begins to work on his 
               teeth again, hiding the occasional twinge that hits him.

                                     JANINE
                         You say something?

                                     TUDOR
                         Nope. Damned thing wriggled out of 
                         my hands. That's all.

               Janine waits for Tudor to say something else. He ignores 
               her.

                                     JANINE
                              (after a pause)
                         You sure you're OK, Nick?

               Tudor continues to ignore her. Janine sighs in a very obvious 
               way and disappears. Tudor waits for a second, turns off the 
               water-pick, then checks out his stomach again.

               INT. WOMEN'S SAUNA -- AFTERNOON

               Janine sits in the middle of a bench, towel around her head 
               and middle. Next to her sits Betts, who is in her early 
               forties, attractive in a tough kind of way, and wears her 
               hair short for efficiency's sake. In her relationship with 
               Janine she plays the role of tough, worldly older sister. 
               She has the poise and confidence of a woman who has created 
               her own success and position in life, a marked contrast to 
               the neurotic vivacity of Janine, who is ten years her junior 
               and has never known independence.

               They are both watched by the only other occupant of the sauna, 
               Benda Sviben, now a full-fledged resident of Starliner Towers. 
               She is huddled in a corner, very shy and looking particularly 
               thin, mousy, and ineffectual in the presence of the other 
               two full-bodied women.

               Betts is in the middle of giving Janine advice about Tudor's 
               disease.

                                     BETTS
                         ...probably nothing at all. It's 
                         probably just a bunch of, I don't 
                         know, fatty cysts. You can have them 
                         removed in a doctor's office. Has 
                         Nick seen a doctor?

                                     JANINE
                         He hates doctors. Doctors and lawyers. 
                         He never goes to doctors.

                                     BETTS
                         Well, look. How's this? You go on 
                         down to the clinic and tell that 
                         nice Dr. St. Luc...
                              (pauses to work it 
                              out)
                         ...you tell him that Nick's ill, 
                         he's got these lumps, and he can't 
                         get out of bed. Tell him to come 
                         when you're sure Nick'll be home. 
                         And don't tell Nick anything. Let 
                         the two of them fight it out.

                                     JANINE
                              (not displeased with 
                              the idea)
                         He'll be really mad.

                                     BETTS
                              (with a conspiratorial 
                              smile)
                         So? You'll find out what's wrong and 
                         then you'll be able to relax a little 
                         bit. Let him be the uptight one for 
                         a change.

               She stretches out full length on the bench, her toes bumping 
               Benda's thigh. Betts notices Benda for the first time.

                                     BETTS
                              (to Benda)
                         Oops, sorry. Hi. Haven't seen you 
                         here before, have I?

               Benda draws her towel around her, wide-eyed, completely 
               intimidated by Betts. She manages a nervous smile.

               INT. TUDOR'S OFFICE -- AFTERNOON

               Tudor's secretary, a lumpy and motherly lady named Mrs. 
               Wheatley -- she has a nameplate on her desk -- is shuffling 
               some papers when the telephone rings.

               Her small cubicle of an office is appended to Tudor's only 
               slightly larger office in a huge downtown office building. 
               The door leading to Tudor's office is closed.

                                     MRS. WHEATLEY
                         Ashen & Gaunt, Insurance Appraisals. 
                         Mr. Tudor? One moment, please. I'll 
                         buzz him.

               She places the caller on 'hold' and presses the inter-office 
               buzzer. She directs her attention for a moment to the papers 
               on her desk. When, after a pause, she notices that Tudor 
               hasn't answered the phone, she releases the caller from 'hold' 
               and picks up the receiver.

                                     MRS. WHEATLEY
                         I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I'll 
                         put you on 'hold' again and see if I 
                         can find Mr. Tudor.

               Mrs. Wheatley pushes the 'hold' button and gets out of her 
               chair. She knocks gently on the door.

                                     MRS. WHEATLEY
                         Nicholas? There's a call for you.

               Perplexed by Tudor's failure to respond, Mrs. Wheatley 
               gingerly opens the door.

                                     MRS. WHEATLEY
                         Nicholas? It's that man whose 
                         Lamborghini caught fire on St. 
                         Catherine Street and burned to the 
                         ground. He's very angry...

               She catches a glimpse of Tudor rolling around on the floor 
               behind his desk, his swivel chair tipped over on to its side.

                                     MRS. WHEATLEY
                         Nicholas! What happened?

               She rushes over to Tudor and helps him to his feet. Tudor is 
               breathing heavily and has to support himself by leaning on 
               the desk while Mrs. Wheatley straightens up the chair for 
               him.

               Tudor collapses into the chair, mumbling and rolling his 
               head from side to side. Mrs. Wheatley pulls a Kleenex from 
               her sleeve and dabs away a small trickle of blood coming 
               from one corner of Tudor's mouth.

                                     MRS. WHEATLEY
                         We're going to get you to a hospital. 
                         That's what we're going to do.

                                     TUDOR
                              (beginning to come 
                              around)
                         No, no. I'll be all right. I'm all 
                         right.

               Mrs. Wheatley shows Tudor the spot of blood on her Kleenex.

                                     MRS. WHEATLEY
                         Do you see this? This is blood. It 
                         came from your insides. That means 
                         it's serious. Probably an ulcer. You 
                         executives are all the same.

               Tudor shoves her hand away and sits straight at his desk, 
               still pretty wobbly.

                                     MRS. WHEATLEY
                              (smoothing the hair 
                              back from Tudor's 
                              forehead in a very 
                              motherly fashion)
                         Now, Nicholas, it doesn't cost 
                         anything to be sure everything's all 
                         right. I think you should definitely 
                         go to the emergency ward and...

                                     TUDOR
                              (abruptly, swiveling 
                              away from Mrs. 
                              Wheatley's hand)
                         Call me a cab, will you please, Mona? 
                         I'm going home for the day.

                                     MRS. WHEATLEY
                         Nicholas, I think...

                                     TUDOR
                         I don't care what you think. Please 
                         call me a cab. Now.

               Mrs. Wheatley steps away from the desk, obviously hurt by 
               Tudor's brusqueness.

                                     MRS. WHEATLEY
                              (mollifyingly)
                         All right, Nicholas. All right.

               She leaves, closing the door behind her.

               Tudor sighs, taking a deep breath. He is suddenly hit by 
               another twinge of pain. He clutches his stomach. Blood 
               trickles out of the corner of his mouth. After a pause, he 
               licks the blood off his lips with the tip of his tongue.

               INT. CLINIC RECEPTION AT STARLINER TOWERS -- AFTERNOON

               The Starliner Towers Medical Clinic is small but complete. 
               Dr. St. Luc and his nurse, Forsythe, are backed up by a 
               secretary-receptionist who sits behind a desk surrounded by 
               filing cabinets at the end of the hallway which serves as 
               reception area. There are chairs lined up against one wall, 
               flanked by coffee tables piled high with the traditional two-
               year-old magazines.

               Three or four people sit waiting to see St. Luc, among them 
               the aging but sprightly Mr. Parkins and Janine Tudor. Parkins, 
               who considers himself something of a ladies' man, is talking 
               to Janine when St. Luc appears and looks at the list of 
               patients who have signed in.

                                     PARKINS
                         ...and this Kriedler seems to think 
                         that mega-vitamin therapy may be the 
                         answer to the question of aging. 
                         That's not to suggest that the aging 
                         process is in any way reversible -- 
                         I don't think for a minute that it 
                         is -- but it may be stoppable, and 
                         that's where mega-vitamins come in...

               St. Luc gestures to Janine to follow him into his office. 
               Janine gets up, excusing herself to Mr. Parkins.

                                     JANINE
                         Excuse me, Brad. Gotta go.

               She follows St. Luc into his office. He closes the door behind 
               her.

               INT. TAXICAB -- AFTERNOON

               The cab carrying Tudor pulls up at the main doors of the 
               Towers. Tudor, still a bit unsteady, signs a chit for the 
               driver and gets out of the car.

               INT. LOBBY -- AFTERNOON

               The doorman opens both doors for Tudor as he enters the 
               building.

                                     DOORMAN
                         Afternoon, Mr. Tudor.

               INT. ST. LUC'S OFFICE -- AFTERNOON

               Janine sits opposite St. Luc, who has a file open before him 
               on his desk.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Well, there's certainly nothing here 
                         in this check-up I did for your 
                         husband's company last year. Blood 
                         pressure a touch high, cholesterol 
                         count nice and low...
                              (looking Janine in 
                              the eye)
                         I just can't see cancer developing 
                         that fast, Janine, not the way you've 
                         described it. Could be swollen glands 
                         or something, I don't know.

                                     JANINE
                              (a bit relieved but 
                              still tense)
                         You'll come up and take a look at 
                         him?

                                     ST. LUC
                              (standing up)
                         If he can't make it down here... 
                         sure. That's what I'm here for. But 
                         it won't be until, oh...
                              (checking his watch)
                         ...9.30, say 10.00. OK? Not too late?

               Janine smiles and shakes her head. Just gotta have time to 
               put the clinic to bed for the night and grab some supper.

                                     JANINE
                         That's great, Doctor. Thanks.

               Janine gets up, opens the door to the reception area, and 
               leaves, closing the door behind her.

               St. Luc keeps staring at Tudor's file, shifts something from 
               one side of the folder to the other. Something bothers him.

               The door to one of the examination rooms opens and Forsythe 
               pops her head around the corner.

                                     FORSYTHE
                         Mrs. Ementhal's ready and waiting, 
                         Doctor.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Mm? OK. Be with you in a sec.

               Forsythe disappears. St. Luc studies Tudor's file.

               INT. TUDOR'S APARTMENT -- LATE AFTERNOON

               Tudor enters his apartment and throws his jacket and attach� 
               case on to a chair. He loosens his tie and makes himself a 
               drink, then sits down on the sofa and switches on the TV 
               set.

               After only a short moment of relative calm, Tudor suddenly 
               contracts into the fetal position, spilling his drink on to 
               the floor. He rolls on to the floor, eyes staring out of his 
               head, mouth opening and closing like that of a fish out of 
               water, tendons in his neck bulging with tension.

               He soon manages to struggle to his feet, the primary spasm 
               of pain apparently over. He keeps both hands clamped over 
               his mouth as though in a vain attempt to forestall a bout of 
               vomiting and stumbles into the bathroom.

               Once in the bathroom, Tudor throws himself over the side of 
               the bathtub, knees on the bath mat, head well down into the 
               tub itself.

               He gags and vomits into the tub and collapses, exhausted, on 
               the floor, mouth bloody. In the tub, a trail of blood-streaked 
               slime leads into the drain.

               INT. RECEPTION AREA -- LATE AFTERNOON

               Forsythe comes out to the reception area from an examination 
               room, checks out the patient list, and beckons to Mr. Parkins.

                                     FORSYTHE
                         I'm ready for you now, Brad.

               Parkins gets up and follows Forsythe into one of the 
               examination rooms.

               INT. EXAMINATION ROOM -- LATE AFTERNOON

               Once inside the examination room, Forsythe closes the door 
               and hands Parkins a hospital tunic.

                                     FORSYTHE
                         Now, you just take off all your 
                         clothes, put this on, and hop up on 
                         to the table over there, OK? Doctor'll 
                         be in to see you in a few minutes.

                                     PARKINS
                              (as Forsythe begins 
                              to leave)
                         You don't have to go. I'm not shy.

                                     FORSYTHE
                         Don't be a tease, Brad. I'm still 
                         working, you know.

               Forsythe leaves. Parkins chuckles to himself -- 'still life 
               in the old boy yet' kind of feeling -- and begins to undress.

               INT. TUDOR'S LIVING ROOM -- NIGHT

               Tudor staggers into the living room from the bathroom, wiping 
               his mouth with a facecloth. He sits down on a chair facing 
               the sliding glass door which leads to the apartment's balcony.

               He breathes heavily, gasping for air. His expression is a 
               dazed one and he mumbles incoherently. After a moment's rest 
               he rises, opens the glass door, and steps out on to the 
               balcony.

               EXT. TUDOR'S BALCONY -- NIGHT

               Tudor hangs on to the railing of the narrow concrete balcony, 
               gulping down the air, scanning the lights of the tower 
               opposite.

               Suddenly the muscles of his neck go tense again, his mouth 
               seems to gape open at the extreme limits imposed by muscle 
               and jawbone, his hands fly up to his mouth in an attempt to 
               keep down whatever is about to come up.

               Hanging over the railing of the balcony like an ocean traveler 
               in a rough sea, Tudor finally gives up the struggle and hangs 
               on for dear life as he retches, gags, moans, and finally 
               vomits.

               EXT. GROUNDS BELOW TUDOR'S BALCONY -- NIGHT

               Two elderly women, Vi and Olive, are taking a leisurely 
               evening stroll at the base of Tudor's tower. They both hold 
               small transparent umbrellas over their heads and walk gingerly 
               along the path bordering the lawn.

               Suddenly the liquid, fleshy thwack of the parasite vomited 
               by Tudor from high above hitting one of the umbrellas is 
               heard. A large splotch of blood spatters the first lady's 
               umbrella just off center, as though it has been hit by a 
               heavy, blood-soaked sponge. The force of the blow almost 
               twists the umbrella from the first lady's frail hand, and 
               she gives a little cry of surprise.

               Her companion extends a hand to help the first lady keep her 
               balance, then gives a slightly more startled cry when she 
               sees the blood.

               The first lady examines her umbrella as well, but does not 
               react with such surprise.

                                     FIRST LADY
                              (examining the bloodied 
                              umbrella)
                         Aw. Poor birdie. They're always 
                         crashing into tall buildings. It's 
                         such a shame, such a shame. The 
                         windows fool them, you know.

               The creature, the second parasite to emerge from Tudor's 
               body, lies in the grass, away from the bright cones of light 
               thrown by the tower's lawn lamps. We can barely make out its 
               bloody, twitching form.

               Beyond the parasite is a basement window through which is 
               visible a large laundry room complete with washers and dryers. 
               The window has been propped open a couple of inches by a bar 
               of laundry soap.

               The first lady makes a move to find the injured creature, 
               but her companion tightens her grip on the old lady's arm.

                                     COMPANION
                         Come along, Olive.

                                     FIRST LADY
                         Oh, Vi! Maybe the poor thing's just 
                         been hurt. Maybe we should look for 
                         him!

                                     COMPANION
                              (pulling Olive along)
                         Don't be silly, dear. It's in heaven 
                         now, whatever it is. Won't help at 
                         all for you to get into a fuss and 
                         muddle over it. Now come along and 
                         let's finish up our little evening 
                         stroll and get you tucked up in bed 
                         in front of the color TV.

               The two women walk off down the path, Vi's voice fading away 
               in the shadows.

                                     COMPANION
                         You know what a restless night you 
                         have if you don't get your two hours 
                         of color TV, dear, so let's bustle 
                         along and get our walk over with, 
                         shall we...?

               INT. ST. LUC'S EXAMINATION ROOM -- NIGHT

               St. Luc is examining Mr. Parkins. Parkins sits on the 
               examination table with the hospital tunic on.

               St. Luc presses gently around Parkins' abdomen in the area 
               of the navel.

                                     PARKINS
                         Ow! Better take it easy. There's a 
                         lot of pressure in there!

               St. Luc stops pressing and takes up his stethoscope. He begins 
               to percuss the old man's abdomen.

                                     PARKINS
                         Want me to breathe deeply?

                                     ST. LUC
                         Just breathe normally.

               St. Luc finishes percussing, removes the stethoscope from 
               his ears, and stands back thoughtfully.

                                     PARKINS
                              (confidentially)
                         Good shape for an old man, eh?

                                     ST. LUC
                              (after a pause)
                         Mr. Parkins, what makes you think 
                         you caught these lumps of yours from 
                         a young lady?

                                     PARKINS
                         She had a couple just like them. 
                         Right here near her belly button. 
                         You could push 'em around. I thought 
                         they were kinda sexy, myself.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Didn't she ever have these lumps 
                         looked at by a doctor?

                                     PARKINS
                              (shrugs)
                         Didn't seem worried about them.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Was this girl from Starliner Towers?

                                     PARKINS
                         Yep. She lived in 1208. But we usually 
                         went to my place. Bigger liquor 
                         cabinet, bigger bed.
                              (chuckles, then gets 
                              serious)
                         She was gone when I got back from my 
                         last Florida trip. Too bad. Had a 
                         beautiful tan.
                              (smiles again)
                         Must have gone home to mother.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Was her name Annabelle Horsefield?

                                     PARKINS
                         That's the one.

               St. Luc sits down at the counter beneath the medicine cabinet 
               and begins to write in Parkins' file.

                                     ST. LUC
                         OK, you can get dressed now, Mr. 
                         Parkins.

               The old man begins to put his shirt and tie back on.

                                     ST. LUC
                              (handing Parkins a 
                              slip of paper)
                         I'm going to send you to the hospital 
                         to have a few X-rays taken. I want 
                         to find out exactly what you're hiding 
                         in there, OK? Give them this. The 
                         address is right there under 
                         Radiology.

                                     PARKINS
                         Gonna cut me open?

                                     ST. LUC
                         Well, let's wait for the X-rays.

                                     PARKINS
                         Used to know a doctor who said he 
                         got to know his patients better than 
                         their wives did.
                              (chuckles)
                         Cutting a man open sure does expose 
                         more of him than pulling down his 
                         pants, gotta admit that.

               St. Luc smiles politely, his mind obviously elsewhere.

               INT. LAUNDRY ROOM -- NIGHT

               A bar of laundry soap props open the window of the laundry 
               room. The presence of the wounded parasite is indicated only 
               by the glistening slime trail which streaks the section of 
               wall immediately below the window.

               The hand of an old woman, puckered and wrinkled from many 
               hours submerged in hot soapy water, reaches up, and yanks 
               the bar of soap out of the jaws of the window. The window 
               swing shut. The woman's hand slides the bolt home, locking 
               the window from the inside.

               The old woman is short, dumpy, puffy-faced, in her late 
               sixties. Her hair is carelessly tied in a bun on top of her 
               head.

               She sniffles, shakes her head, turns away from the window, 
               and walks across the room to the long bank of washers and 
               dryers. As she walks she has to thread her way among the 
               dozen or so shopping bags full of dirty laundry -- against 
               apartment regulations, she takes in outsiders' laundry -- 
               which she has brought down the elevator with her.

               She flips open the top of the first washer and begins to dig 
               clothes out of the nearest shopping bag.

               From above and behind the washer, we watch her fill the 
               machine and reach into the front of her dress, which is black 
               and frayed. After feeling around for a few seconds, she pulls 
               out a plastic bag filled with white granulated detergent. 
               She dumps some of this into the washer, finds the appropriate 
               coins in the pocket of her dress, and starts the machine.

               She watches it for a second to make sure it's working 
               properly, then puts the plastic bag back where she found it. 
               She picks up the bag she has almost emptied and shuffles in 
               her ragged slippers to the next washer. She stops in front 
               of it and puts down the bag.

               The old woman notices a slimy streak near the open hole of 
               the washer. She grimaces, grabs a sock from the bag and cleans 
               off the top of the washer with it. She tosses the sock into 
               the washer and leans over the hole, trying to see inside.

               The parasite which has been lurking in the washer suddenly 
               springs from the opening on to the old woman's face, suckering 
               on to her flesh with its stubby tentacles. She shrieks and 
               grabs at the creature with both hands, trying to pull it 
               off.

               She stumbles back from the washer and begins to trip over 
               various shopping bags. Finally she goes down amidst her 
               laundry, thrashing and spilling clothes out everywhere.

               INT. STARLINER TOWERS GROCERY STORE -- NIGHT

               In the grocery store built into the base of one of the towers, 
               Janine flips through some magazines, finally buying a Vogue.

               She stops to look at several shelves of various kinds of 
               food, picking up this and that, but somehow the thought of 
               cooking or even eating repulses her, and she leaves without 
               buying anything but the magazine.

               INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT

               Janine walks along a hallway, stops at a door, knocks gently, 
               and then opens the door and walks in, obviously very familiar 
               with the occupant.

               INT. BETTS' APARTMENT -- NIGHT

               Janine enters Betts' apartment. Betts is sitting cross-legged 
               in leotards on the broadloom, a number of very large black-
               and-white photographs spread out in front of her. As she 
               speaks to Janine, she arranges and rearranges them.

               Other equipment and graphics of various kinds stuck on walls, 
               hidden in corners and lying on chairs and tables suggest 
               that Betts is in advertising and commercial graphics.

               Janine stands halfway in the door.

                                     JANINE
                         Hi.

                                     BETTS
                         Hi. Want a drink?

                                     JANINE
                         No thanks. Just wanted to tell you 
                         that Dr. St. Luc is coming up to see 
                         Nick at ten or so.

                                     BETTS
                         Was he nice to you?

               Janine nods.

                                     BETTS
                         Good. Well...
                              (takes a sip from a 
                              glass on the floor 
                              next to her)
                         I've ordered in some vrai cuisine 
                         fran�aise from Jean-Phillipe at the 
                         C�te d'Azur restaurant. Escargots in 
                         garlic butter... the works. They 
                         have lovely strong delivery boys who 
                         fight their way through sleet and 
                         hail and the gloom of night just to 
                         bring me my coq au vin. And after 
                         Dr. St. Luc has told you that there's 
                         nothing wrong with Nick that a 
                         vacation won't cure, and if Nick 
                         falls asleep early again, you just 
                         come on back here for company and a 
                         late supper. You hear me?

               Janine nods.

                                     BETTS
                         Now, I mean it. I always order enough 
                         for two and I'll just get fat and 
                         lonely if you don't show up.

               Janine wiggles her fingers goodbye and leaves.

               INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT

               Janine walks down the hallway to her apartment, her Vogue 
               rolled up under her arm. She opens the door to her apartment -- 
               it's not locked -- and goes in.

               A moment after she's gone and closed the door, two children 
               about ten years old appear around a corner, giggling and 
               jostling each other. They approach Tudor's apartment.

                                     GIRL
                         C'mon, let's smoke one of the 
                         cigarettes right now. Your father'll 
                         never miss it.

                                     BOY
                         I can't, dummy. He'll see that the 
                         pack's been opened. You're such a 
                         dumbhead.

                                     GIRL
                         OK, then. I'm gonna go back to the 
                         store and buy my own pack and smoke 
                         'em all myself.

                                     BOY
                         Buy 'em with what, dumbhead?

                                     GIRL
                              (flipping open a milk 
                              box)
                         With some milk jugs I just happened 
                         to pick up on the way home.

               The first box she tries is empty. She advances to the next 
               and the next, finally finding one that has a jug in it. She 
               takes it and advances to Tudor's box, jug swinging, companion 
               trailing after her in admiration. She stops at Tudor's milk 
               box and flicks the door open.

               She looks inside, just about to reach for the jug that nestles 
               back in the shadows. Ugh! What's that?

               The boy takes a look. Inside the box a third parasite can 
               just be seen clinging to a three-quart white plastic milk 
               jug. The jug is smeared with blood. The box's inside door is 
               ajar. The TV set can be heard from inside the apartment.

                                     BOY
                         I dunno. Guess the milk went bad.
                              (shrugs)
                         It's still worth money.

               The girl hesitates for a second. Suddenly the parasite 
               twitches around to the front of the jug. The girl, startled, 
               slams the box door shut.

                                     GIRL
                         Jesus!

                                     BOY
                         Let's get outta here before somebody 
                         hears us!

               The children run off down the hallway together. After a few 
               seconds, the box door is nudged open again from the inside.

               INT. TUDOR'S APARTMENT -- NIGHT

               Janine sits down in front of the TV set. After a moment or 
               two she gets up, turns the set off, and flops back down on 
               the sofa with her Vogue.

               She doesn't notice a trail of bloody slime leading from the 
               bedroom to the inside door of the milk box.

               In the bedroom, a hand reaches down and pulls back a bedsheet 
               to reveal a naked abdomen. It is Tudor's abdomen, and he 
               reaches out with trembling fingers to touch a lump the size 
               of a chicken egg stretching the skin to one side of his navel.

               Tudor watches the lump in the muted light of his bedroom. He 
               gradually extends his hand toward the lump, which disappears 
               the instant it's touched.

                                     TUDOR
                              (delirious, voice 
                              strained, whispering)
                         Come here, boy. Here, boy, here.

               He taps and scratches the skin near his navel, as though 
               trying to lure a cat into attacking his fingers.

               He is propped up in bed, sweating profusely, half-dressed. 
               He looks weak and drained, but still manages to smile with 
               maniacal intensity, his eyes wide and bright.

                                     TUDOR
                         Come on, fella. Thataboy. You and 
                         me, we're gonna be friends, aren't 
                         we?

               We can now see that the sheets are twisted, the pillows half 
               off the bed. Tudor begins drumming on his abdomen.

               Gradually, cautiously, the lump under Tudor's skin returns. 
               He tries to seize the lump with his fingers and it shrinks 
               back, almost disappearing into his abdominal cavity again.

               Tudor seems disappointed.

                                     TUDOR
                         No, no, no. Don't run away, boy. I'm 
                         not going to hurt you. Not going to 
                         hurt you. We're going to be friends. 
                         Friends.

               The lump returns again. Gently, Tudor begins stroking it. 
               The lump seems to respond by pulsing slightly, the rhythm 
               strangely masturbatory.

                                     TUDOR
                              (soothingly)
                         Attaboy.
                              (closing his eyes in 
                              bliss and smiling 
                              again)
                         Attaboy.

               In the living room, Janine suddenly realizes that if the TV 
               set was on, Nick must be home.

               She gets to her feet and walks to the bedroom.

               Inside the bedroom, we see the door open. Light floods the 
               room as Janine enters. Janine sees Tudor sprawled out on the 
               bed.

                                     JANINE
                         Nick? I didn't know you were home. 
                         What's wrong? What are you doing? 
                         You're almost falling out of bed. 
                         How are you feeling?

               Tudor twists around to see who has spoken, eyes wide but now 
               unsmiling. With the same motion, he pulls the covers over 
               his abdomen to hide the lumps from Janine.

               Janine stands at the bedroom door for an instant, then 
               approaches the bedside. She moves as though her hands were 
               tied at her sides, as though she is quite consciously holding 
               herself together.

                                     JANINE
                              (tenderly, but with 
                              caution, as though 
                              expecting a blow)
                         Nick, does your stomach hurt? Can I 
                         see those bumps on your tummy, can 
                         I?

               She reaches out to pull back the covers again, but he rolls 
               away from her.

                                     TUDOR
                         Go away. Leave me alone.

               Janine straightens up. Her hands come up to her face and 
               tears well up in her eyes.

                                     JANINE
                              (frustrated)
                         Oh, why won't you let me help you?

               She turns and walks angrily out of the room, slamming the 
               door behind her.

               Tudor rolls over slowly on to his back, eyes wide and shining, 
               smiling again.

                                     TUDOR
                              (murmuring)
                         Attaboy, attaboy.

               INT. EXAMINATION ROOM -- NIGHT

               St. Luc is examining a very pretty young girl who sits on 
               the examination table in a hospital tunic.

                                     ST. LUC
                         OK, Dotty. Everything else seems to 
                         be fine. Now if it gives you any 
                         trouble at all, any sharp pain, any 
                         unusual discharge, you come and see 
                         me right away. They can be tricky 
                         sometimes.

               Dotty nods. OK, you can get dressed. We're all through.

               The girl starts to get dressed. St. Luc scribbles something 
               in her file and then takes it with him into the adjoining 
               office, closing the door behind him.

               INT. ST. LUC'S OFFICE -- NIGHT

               St. Luc sits at his desk and opens Parkins' file. Forsythe, 
               about twenty-three, earthy and humorous, comes in with an 
               armful of papers and records, which she throws in groups on 
               to St. Luc's desk.

                                     FORSYTHE
                              (distributing papers)
                         OK, Roger. Here's the stuff you 
                         wanted. Files on Horsefield, Tudor, 
                         Swinburne, and Velakofsky. Papers 
                         published by Hobbes, Linsky, and 
                         Lefebvre in a couple of issues of 
                         the Bulletin of the Canadian Medical 
                         Association and also the Journal of 
                         the American Medical Association. 
                         And, as an added extra, a couple of 
                         odds and ends from the files I helped 
                         compile before your time here, Doctor. 
                         I thought they might interest you.

                                     ST. LUC
                         That's great, Forsythe, great. Thanks.

                                     FORSYTHE
                         Do I get a kiss?

               St. Luc is absorbed in his papers and doesn't respond. 
               Forsythe prods his shoulder. He looks up at her.

                                     FORSYTHE
                         Kiss, kiss?

                                     ST. LUC
                         Uh, OK. Sure.

               They kiss, St. Luc making sure that it doesn't get too heavy.

                                     FORSYTHE
                         Another kiss?

                                     ST. LUC
                         C'mon, Forsythe. Are there any more 
                         on the list?

                                     FORSYTHE
                         No. Dotty's the last.

               The telephone rings. St. Luc picks it up.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Yes?

                                     ROLLO (V.O.)
                         That you, Rog?

                                     ST. LUC
                              (not recognizing the 
                              voice)
                         Yes?

                                     ROLLO (V.O.)
                         It's me, Rollo Linsky. Remember me?

                                     ST. LUC
                         Rollo! How'sa boy? I was just thinking 
                         about you.

               Realizing that the conversation is likely to be a long one, 
               Forsythe gets off the desk and walks over to a metal locker 
               in the corner, which she opens.

               Inside are her street clothes. She begins to take off her 
               nurse's uniform in full view of St. Luc, not being obvious 
               about the distraction she's providing, but not taking pains 
               to hurry dressing or be modest either.

               In the scene that follows we cut among three basic things: 
               Rollo in his lab, talking and eating; St. Luc in his office, 
               watching Forsythe get undressed and then dressed; and Hobbes's 
               notes and scribblings, which do not necessarily have to be 
               on the screen long enough to be completely read. Hobbes's 
               notes are there more to convince the viewer that they exist 
               and to provide flavor than to transfer information.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Been glancing at some of your 
                         publications on your work with Hobbes.

               INT. ROLLO'S LAB -- NIGHT

               In his lab, Rollo sits at the gynecological table abandoned 
               by Hobbes. Rollo is using it as an auxiliary desk.

               On the table are several opened waxed-paper packages of beef 
               knishes and accessories. There are also several old cardboard 
               shoeboxes, some still tied with string, some opened and 
               overflowing with papers of all kinds: Hobbes's private notes.

                                     ROLLO
                              (eating a knish)
                         Yeah, well, I'm flattered, but you 
                         won't find any real meat in them.

                                     ST. LUC (V.O.)
                         No? How come?

                                     ROLLO
                              (shuffling papers)
                         Listen, Rog. I knew Hobbes was funny, 
                         you know? I told you that. But I 
                         didn't really know just how funny he 
                         was. See... when he kicked off, they 
                         sent all the personal secret stuff 
                         they found to his mother -- she's 
                         still alive but just barely -- and 
                         she sent everything she thought was 
                         medical to me here at the lab. I'm 
                         Hobbes's partner, right?
                              (laughs sardonically)
                         Anyway, I've been going through his 
                         papers, and what they add up to is 
                         this: Hobbes was shafting us all, 
                         me, the university, the foundations 
                         and the councils, the private labs, 
                         everybody. We never really knew what 
                         it was we were working on. Hobbes 
                         gave us each a few crumbs, but he 
                         was the only one who knew what the 
                         whole loaf would look like.

               INT. ST. LUC'S OFFICE -- NIGHT

               St. Luc watches as Forsythe rolls her stockings down. He 
               shuffles through Hobbes's publications.

                                     ST. LUC
                         OK, I bite. What does it look like?

               INT. ROLLO'S LAB -- NIGHT

                                     ROLLO
                         It looks like -- and I quote -- 'a 
                         disease to save man from his mind.'

                                     ST. LUC (V.O.)
                         I don't get it.

                                     ROLLO
                         Lemme clarify for you.

               Rollo pauses to wash down some knish with a can of Coca-Cola.

               INT. ST. LUC'S OFFICE -- NIGHT

               Forsythe catches St. Luc watching her dress and smiles. St. 
               Luc swivels back to his files.

               INT. ROLLO'S LAB -- NIGHT

               Rollo searches through Hobbes's notes to find the relevant 
               quotes. As he does so, he drops a few crumbs of knish on the 
               page and his plump fingers brush the crumbs away, smearing 
               some meat over the words.

                                     ROLLO
                         Hobbes thought that man is an animal 
                         that thinks too much, an animal that 
                         has lost touch with his instinct, 
                         his 'primal self'... in other words, 
                         too much brain and not enough guts. 
                         And what he came up with to help our 
                         guts along was a human parasite that 
                         is... lemme find it here... 'a 
                         combination of aphrodisiac and 
                         venereal disease, a modern version 
                         of the satyr's tongue.'

               Rollo pauses and flips to a new note with the heading 
               ANNABELLE underlined in red: 'She is becoming a new creature 
               before my eyes. It is like living at the Dawn of Creation. I 
               am euphoric, I am in ecstasy.'

                                     ROLLO
                         But the important thing for you is 
                         this: Hobbes used Annabelle as a 
                         guinea pig. He implanted her with 
                         the thing. I figure that once the 
                         parasites took, Annabelle went 
                         berserk. I dunno what she did, but 
                         Hobbes wasn't ready for it. He had 
                         to kill her. And he wasn't trying to 
                         burn her, he was burning them, all 
                         of them.

               INT. ST. LUC'S OFFICE -- NIGHT

               St. Luc watches Forsythe, who is halfway through getting her 
               street clothes on. He toys with the Velakofsky file, which 
               contains abdominal X-rays showing dark, blurred masses inside 
               the abdominal cavity.

                                     ST. LUC
                         He didn't make it.

                                     ROLLO (V.O.)
                         Huh?

                                     ST. LUC
                         Maybe Hobbes didn't know it, but 
                         Annabelle was a pretty popular girl 
                         around Starliner Towers. I've got 
                         three men here, maybe four, who're 
                         hosting large, free-moving, apparently 
                         pathogenic, abdominal growths that 
                         nobody I've tried can identify. You 
                         were next on my list.

               INT. ROLLO'S LAB -- NIGHT

                                     ROLLO
                         I'd kinda like to come over there 
                         and have a look at one of these guys.

                                     ST. LUC (V.O.)
                         I've got a date with one of them at 
                         ten. Can you make it?

                                     ROLLO
                         Yeah.
                              (pause)
                         Ah, I don't want to panic you or 
                         anything, but, I mean, the way Hobbes 
                         designed them, they're supposed to 
                         get out of hand real quick, so you 
                         don't have much time to think about 
                         what's happening to you. Once they 
                         decide to start pumping all those 
                         dynamite juices into the old blood 
                         stream... I dunno. But if you see 
                         some people doing kind of compulsive, 
                         maybe even bizarre sexual things...

                                     ST. LUC (V.O.)
                              (laughing: he doesn't 
                              take this aspect too 
                              seriously)
                         Yeah? What do I do then?

                                     ROLLO
                         I dunno. Try tranquilizers. Once you 
                         can get at them, there's a lotta 
                         stuff you can use. I'll bring a 
                         bagful. It's just the standard 
                         tropical kit. But the trick is to 
                         get at them.

               INT. ST. LUC'S OFFICE -- NIGHT

               Forsythe has finished dressing and is waiting for St. Luc to 
               get off the phone.

                                     ST. LUC
                         OK. It's apartment 1009, South Tower, 
                         Starliner Towers. May as well go 
                         there directly.

                                     ROLLO (V.O.)
                         OK, Rog. See you at ten.

               St. Luc hangs up.

                                     FORSYTHE
                         Roger? If you're going to be staying 
                         here anyway, why don't you come up 
                         to my place for a late supper?

                                     ST. LUC
                         Meeting Rollo at Tudor's. Might take 
                         a while.

                                     FORSYTHE
                              (innocently)
                         Doesn't matter to me how late it is. 
                         I can keep it warm.

               St. Luc pushes his papers aside for a moment and stretches 
               in his swivel chair.

                                     FORSYTHE
                         Anything wrong?

                                     ST. LUC
                         No. I don't think so.

                                     FORSYTHE
                         Well? Supper at my place?

                                     ST. LUC
                         OK. But late.

                                     FORSYTHE
                              (happy because she 
                              knows she can get 
                              him to stay overnight)
                         Great! Go back to your files. Bye.

               She leaves, closing the door behind her. St. Luc swivels 
               thoughtfully in his chair for a second or two, then turns 
               back to his files.

               INT. RECEPTION AREA -- NIGHT

               Forsythe walks through the darkened and deserted reception 
               area to the elevators. Through the main doors we see a 
               delivery van parked in the main driveway.

               INT. MAIN DOORS -- NIGHT

               A young man aged about twenty-five -- Kurt, the delivery 
               boy, dark, intense, bearded, his manner as stiff and formal 
               as the tuxedo that he wears -- rolls a restaurant serving 
               cart toward the main doors. He has obviously just come from 
               the van outside, which is emblazoned with the words 
               'Restaurant C�te d'Azur'.

               The doorman smiles and opens the door for Kurt, obviously 
               familiar with the restaurant. Kurt takes great care as he 
               lifts the cart slightly so that it clears the doormats. On 
               the cart's two levels is an elaborate array of silver serving 
               vessels and utensils.

               INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT

               Elevator doors slide open and Kurt steps out, pushing his 
               cart. He walks down the hallway looking for Betts's apartment. 
               After he has passed a few doors he approaches one which is 
               slightly ajar.

               As Kurt approaches, the door opens wider to reveal the old 
               woman from the laundry room. She is no longer wearing her 
               dumpy laundry clothes, however, but is dressed in a 
               translucent nightgown and wears a grotesque amount of make-
               up. She is careful to keep half her face hidden behind the 
               door.

               Kurt notices her but chooses to ignore her. He is just 
               approaching her when she calls to him.

                                     OLD WOMAN
                         I'm hungry!

               Kurt keeps on moving. He is now just passing her door. The 
               old woman edges out from behind the door a bit more.

                                     OLD WOMAN
                         I'm hungry!

               Kurt can't resist turning to look at her, although he keeps 
               moving. When he looks her in the eye, she eases out slightly 
               from behind the door to reveal that half her face has been 
               horribly burned by the laundry-room parasite, the eye melted 
               shut, the nostril drooping.

               Kurt is so stunned that he slows. The old woman speaks softly.

                                     OLD WOMAN
                         Hungry for love. Hungry for love.

               She suddenly reaches out and grabs Kurt by his tux with both 
               hands and, with tremendous energy, jerks him back into her 
               apartment and slams the door closed with a vicious kick.

               Kurt's cart remains out in the hallway, the food steaming.

               INT. BETTS' APARTMENT -- NIGHT

               In her dining room, Betts mixes herself a drink and checks 
               her watch. She takes a sip, then goes into the bathroom and 
               bends over the bathtub, having balanced her drink on the 
               edge of the tub.

               From inside the drain of the tub we see Betts place the plug 
               in the plughole.

               Betts turns on the water, adjusting the proportion of hot to 
               cold until she gets it exactly the way she wants it, then 
               gets undressed.

               She wraps a thick and colorful towel around her and goes out 
               to the living room with her drink in hand. In the living 
               room, she arranges her photos in a new order, props them up 
               against the sofa, changes them around again.

               Back in the bathroom, Betts checks the temperature of the 
               water by swishing her hand around in it. The water drums 
               heavily on the floor of the tub. Betts puts her drink on the 
               edge of the tub and turns the water off.

               She now drops her towel on to the bathmat and steps into the 
               tub. She reaches over the edge of the tub to straighten her 
               sandals on the bathmat, then picks up her drink and stretches 
               back. She takes a big slug of her drink. Her toes curl in 
               pleasure.

               The drain plug begins to jerk and twitch, as though something 
               were trying to push it out from inside the drain.

               Betts sinks down in the water until her hair, short as it 
               is, begins to float a bit.

               The drain plug begins to jerk more and more violently until 
               it is pushed right out of its plug hole. The water begins to 
               run out of the drain, but only in a slight trickle -- the 
               drain pipe is blocked by a soft, spongy body.

               Betts rolls her head back and forth across the back of the 
               tub, smiling, relaxed, enjoying the sensation.

               One of the parasite's stubby tentacles slowly appears, probing 
               out of the drain hole. Then another appears, then another.

               Betts puts down her drink on the tub's edge and reaches for 
               the soap and washcloth. Her eyes are half-closed and a smile 
               still flickers about her lips. The sound of water suddenly 
               rushing out of the drain in volume rouses Betts out of her 
               reverie.

               She sits up and looks down toward the plug end of the tub. 
               The parasite is crawling toward her up the middle of the 
               tub, almost touching her legs, which are pressed together 
               against one side of the tub. The water is becoming pink with 
               the blood that diffuses through it.

               Betts' mouth opens slowly and her eyes are wide. Her reactions 
               are obviously being confused by the drinks she has recently 
               had.

               Under the water, now very shallow, the parasite's tentacles 
               touch Betts's thighs.

               Betts tries to scream but can't. The parasite suckers its 
               way between Betts' thighs. She screams a silent scream in 
               the tub, her mouth wide open, her head rolling from side to 
               side. The only sounds are the thrashing of her legs in the 
               water and the gurgle of the drain.

               With a spasm that shakes her whole body, Betts throws her 
               arms wide and knocks her glass off the edge of the tub and 
               on to the tiles of the bathroom floor. The glass shatters. 
               After a moment or two of further silent struggle, Betts arches 
               her back, then falls into a semi-conscious stupor, slumping 
               motionless in the tub.

               INT. TUDOR'S APARTMENT -- NIGHT

               Nicholas Tudor lies flat on his back in bed on top of the 
               covers. The physical state of his face, ghastly and 
               cadaverous, is in sharp contrast to his expression, which is 
               ecstatic, beatific, Madonna-like.

               Tudor's hands rest on his abdomen in a posture often 
               associated with pregnant women. Between his hands, in the 
               area around the navel, three lumps shift beneath the skin, 
               changing positions and pulsing rhythmically.

               As they move, Tudor makes little delirious crooning sounds, 
               a parody of a lullaby.

               In the living room, Janine sits on the couch agitatedly 
               flipping through her Vogue, now wearing large, fashionable 
               glasses with thick, tinted prescription lenses. She can't 
               seem to get into doing anything until St. Luc comes.

               She gets up and turns the TV on again, deliberately turning 
               up the volume to an uncomfortable level.

               INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT

               An old man and his wife, the Spergazzis, are taking their 
               late-night constitutional through the halls of the South 
               Tower.

               Their arms are linked and they both walk with the aid of 
               canes, the ultra-modern aluminum kind with four rubber-tipped 
               prongs at the end.

                                     MR. SPERGAZZI
                         Lovely, lovely evening. Very quiet, 
                         eh?

               Mrs. Spergazzi nods and smiles, patting Mr. Spergazzi's hand. 
               They round a corner which leads them down the stretch of 
               hall which passes by Tudor's door.

               As they approach Tudor's door they notice a plastic milk jug 
               lying in the hall just below the open milk-chute door.

               Mrs. Spergazzi detaches herself from her husband and bends 
               down with difficulty to pick up the jug.

                                     MRS. SPERGAZZI
                         Eh, the children in this apartment, 
                         they're such little thieves. You 
                         have to put a lock on everything.

               She puts the jug back in the milk chute. She notices the 
               blood smeared on it just a second before the parasite in the 
               chute fastens itself to her wrist with its suckers.

               She stares at her wrist in astonishment. She is wearing the 
               parasite like some monstrous, spongy, oozing wristwatch. She 
               tries to shake the thing off. It can't be dislodged. She 
               turns in disbelief to her husband and then screams at the 
               top of her lungs.

               Mr. Spergazzi lifts his cane and tries to strike the thing 
               with the cane's prongs. The force of his blow throws him off 
               balance and he falls, dragging his wife down with him.

               Mrs. Spergazzi moans in pain and terror. Her husband manages 
               to get to his knees and begins to smash at the thing with 
               his cane. White burning fluid begins to squirt everywhere. 
               Mrs Spergazzi's forearm begins to smoke, bubble, and dissolve. 
               She becomes hysterical.

               Mr. Spergazzi continues to smash away at the thing, now with 
               some success.

               INT. FORSYTHE'S APARTMENT -- NIGHT

               In the kitchen, a thick paperbound book called Guide to 
               Gourmet Cooking lies open and face down on the kitchen counter 
               next to the sink. There are a couple of pots and pans heating 
               on the stove.

               Forsythe picks up the book, then opens one of the pots to 
               check something. She is obviously taking a lot of care with 
               St. Luc's late supper. She puts the lid back on the pot, 
               reads a bit more, then checks the time on an electric clock 
               on the counter.

               She opens the oven door, then takes a bone-handled carving 
               fork from a carving set and begins to prod at a roast in a 
               ceramic roasting dish.

               Someone knocks on the door. Forsythe leaves her oven and 
               goes to answer it, carving fork in hand.

               She opens the door. Kresimir Sviben stands in the hallway, 
               eyes wide, insane smile on his face. He looks at Forsythe as 
               though she were a piece of steak.

                                     FORSYTHE
                         Yes?

               Kresimir doesn't answer. He begins to drool, his mouth working 
               as though in anticipation of a meal. Forsythe gets a little 
               nervous.

                                     FORSYTHE
                         Can I... can I help you?

               Kresimir approaches. He is visibly shaking.

                                     KRESIMIR
                              (speaking with 
                              difficulty)
                         Yes... you can... help me.

               Without warning, he lunges for Forsythe, who vainly tries to 
               slam the door in his face. Kresimir pushes his way past the 
               door and grabs Forsythe by the back of the head, trying to 
               kiss her and drooling.

               Forsythe breaks away and runs toward the bathroom, intending 
               to lock herself in. Kresimir throws himself at her legs, 
               managing to grab one of her feet. She doesn't fall, but holds 
               on to a cabinet and tries to pull free.

               Kresimir begins to climb up her body. Forsythe, terrified 
               and gasping for breath, plunges the long, curved prongs of 
               the carving fork into Kresimir's shoulder. He screams with 
               pain and loosens his grip on Forsythe long enough for her to 
               pull away, leaving her apron and part of her dress in 
               Kresimir's hands.

               She runs for the door and is gone.

               Kresimir, still on his knees, holds the apron and the piece 
               of dress to his face, breathing in Forsythe's fragrance. He 
               begins to shuffle toward the door on his knees, kissing the 
               clothes in his hands, mumbling and moaning.

                                     KRESIMIR
                         Oh, my darling, I worship, I worship 
                         at the shrine of your body, your 
                         body, your body, oh, your body...

               INT. BETTS'S BATHROOM -- NIGHT

               Betts lies slumped in her bathtub, her hair matted and damp, 
               her eyes open and staring. Her mouth begins to work in a 
               very sensual way, and she begins to drool slightly.

               The tub is completely empty now except for the scum of blood 
               and soap. The smashed glass is scattered all over the floor 
               near the base of the tub.

               Zombie-like, Betts rises from the tub and steps out on to 
               the floor, her feet missing the bathmat. The crunch and snap 
               of her bare feet on the broken glass are heightened abnormally 
               by the tiled echo chamber of the bathroom.

               The steps Betts takes toward the medicine cabinet leave bloody 
               prints on the floor.

               Betts takes out various bottles and plastic cases and tubes 
               from the medicine cabinet and begins to apply make-up to her 
               face with mechanical precision.

               INT. ST. LUC'S OFFICE -- NIGHT

               St. Luc is reading a section of one of Hobbes's medical papers 
               in preparation for examining Tudor later on. The section we 
               see says: '...thus the theoretical organism we are now 
               considering would exhibit what I choose to call "compressed 
               evolution." This in effect means that each generation of the 
               said organism would be better adapted to inhabit and to 
               control the behavior of its host...'

               Suddenly Forsythe bursts in, out of breath, semi-hysterical, 
               tearful.

               St. Luc rises from his chair and Forsythe throws herself on 
               him, sobbing.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Forsythe, Forsythe! What's wrong? 
                         What's happened?

                                     FORSYTHE
                         A man... I think I recognized him... 
                         a man who lives here. He just...
                              (breaking down)
                         ...he just attacked me for no reason 
                         at all. I just opened the door... I 
                         was making supper for you, and he 
                         grabbed me, he tried to kiss me...

               St. Luc hugs Forsythe for a moment, then holds her away from 
               him so that he can get some information out of her.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Where is he now? Do you know?

                                     FORSYTHE
                         I think I... I think I killed him. I 
                         stabbed him with something and he 
                         fell.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Will you be OK now? I've got to go 
                         to your place to see if he's still 
                         there. I've got to see if it's... if 
                         it's what we both think it is.

                                     FORSYTHE
                         Oh, no! You're not leaving me here 
                         all alone. I'm going with you.

               St. Luc hesitates for a second, then grabs his black leather 
               doctor's bag.

                                     ST. LUC
                         OK, c'mon.

               They leave.

               INT. ELEVATOR -- NIGHT

               Inside a descending elevator, a middle-aged woman and her 
               teen-aged daughter flip through a magazine together. The 
               elevator sinks toward the ground floor of the South Tower, 
               then slows and stops. They both look up at the floor numbers. 
               It's not their floor.

               The doors slide open. Nobody seems to be waiting. The mother 
               pushes the CLOSE DOOR button, a bit impatiently. A hand 
               holding a cr�pe oozing red jam and sugar reaches around into 
               the elevator.

               The two women cringe, suddenly afraid. Kurt, the delivery 
               boy, steps around and into the elevator, smiling broadly, 
               eyes wide and glistening. He drools slightly. The doors slide 
               closed. Kurt offers one cr�pe to each woman.

               INT. MAIN DOORS -- NIGHT

               The doorman sits beside the intercom board reading another 
               Harlequin Nurse Romance when he happens to glance up and 
               notice the elevator flashers which indicate a stuck elevator.

               He sighs, shakes his head -- always something going wrong -- 
               stuffs the pocketbook into his jacket, and gets up, taking 
               out a huge ring of keys from his pocket as he does so.

               He walks over to the metal control panel sunk into the wall 
               between the elevators and opens it with one of the keys on 
               the ring. Then, checking to make sure which elevator is the 
               stuck one, he plays with a switch which manually overrides 
               the floor selector and brings the elevator down.

               The doorman watches as the numbers show that the elevator is 
               finally coming down. He stands by, waiting to see who or 
               what has caused the elevator to stay at one floor for so 
               long, jingling his keys, trying to look stern and 
               authoritarian.

               The doors spring open. Kurt stands at the back of the 
               elevator, one arm around the young girl, who hugs him tightly. 
               The girl is finishing the last bit of one of the cr�pes, 
               sucking her fingers deliciously.

               The mother sits slumped in the opposite corner, her coat 
               open, her dress torn, bruises on her face. She struggles to 
               her feet. Kurt and the girl are ignoring her.

               The doorman is nonplussed. He hesitates, then makes a move 
               toward the elevator, intending to help the woman to her feet.

                                     DOORMAN
                         Here, here. What is this all about? 
                         What's the matter with you? What are 
                         you doing in there?

               The woman suddenly lunges at the doorman and tries to pull 
               him down. Kurt detaches himself from the girl and joins her. 
               They giggle and drool all over the doorman as they pull him 
               down and pin him to the floor.

               The daughter, still licking her fingers, slowly approaches 
               the doorman.

                                     DOORMAN
                         Hey, that's enough, enough of this 
                         nonsense! What is this?
                              (Etc.)

               The daughter kneels at the doorman's feet, then crawls over 
               him, her mouth working, drooling. She lowers her lips over 
               his, Kurt making it impossible for the doorman to move his 
               head out of the way.

               INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT

               Forsythe and St. Luc are hurrying to Forsythe's apartment to 
               see if Kresimir is still there. As they round a corner, they 
               see the Spergazzis coming toward them, the old lady hobbling 
               and hysterical, the old man helping her walk as best he can, 
               trying to maintain some kind of calm.

               When Spergazzi sees St. Luc, he lifts his four-pronged cane 
               and waves it around to get attention.

                                     MR. SPERGAZZI
                         Hey, Doctor, Doctor! Please. Help 
                         us!

               St. Luc and Forsythe rush over and help to support the 
               slumping Mrs. Spergazzi.

                                     ST. LUC
                         What happened?

                                     MR. SPERGAZZI
                              (tipping his hat as 
                              he introduces himself 
                              even in the midst of 
                              chaos)
                         Please pardon me. I am Niccolo 
                         Spergazzi. I am a resident here. I 
                         don't know... we were walking in the 
                         hallway and... Cabiria... my wife... 
                         she was attacked by this thing... 
                         here, on her arm.

               Spergazzi shows St. Luc his wife's forearm, which has been 
               badly burned by the parasite's animal-tissue solvent. As 
               soon as St. Luc starts prodding her arm, Mrs. Spergazzi starts 
               to wail in Italian. Spergazzi tries to soothe her as St. Luc 
               examines her carefully.

                                     MR. SPERGAZZI
                         It's all right, cara mia. What's one 
                         more scar to an old lady, eh? You'll 
                         be OK.

               The old lady wails even more.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Where is this thing that attacked 
                         your wife?

                                     MR. SPERGAZZI
                         I hit it. I hit it with my cane. 
                         Then I carry it on the cane and I 
                         throw it down to the incinerator, 
                         down to the garbage.

               St. Luc hands his bag to Forsythe.

                                     ST. LUC
                              (to Spergazzi)
                         This is Nurse Forsythe. She's a nurse, 
                         you understand me?

               Spergazzi nods. St. Luc turns to Forsythe.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Go back to their apartment with them 
                         and treat her for second-degree burns. 
                         It'll have to do for now.
                              (to Spergazzi)
                         What's your number? The number of 
                         your apartment?

                                     MR. SPERGAZZI
                         We live in 703.

                                     ST. LUC
                              (to Forsythe)
                         OK. I'll meet you back there. Don't 
                         leave until I get there. Lock the 
                         door and don't open it except for 
                         me. OK?

                                     FORSYTHE
                         But where are you going?

                                     ST. LUC
                              (walking away)
                         Down to the incinerator.

               INT. TUDOR'S APARTMENT -- NIGHT

               Janine dozes fitfully on the couch, her glasses fallen on to 
               the carpet, her Vogue crumpled underneath her. Tudor's voice 
               calls to her from the bedroom. It has an eerie, wailing tone 
               to it.

                                     TUDOR
                         Janine. Janine. Come here. Come into 
                         the bedroom, Janine.

               Tudor keeps calling until Janine wakes up with a start and 
               jumps to her feet, still half asleep. She rubs her eyes and 
               walks to the bedroom.

               Janine opens the bedroom door. From her point of view we see 
               a dark, blurry figure sitting on the edge of the bed.

                                     JANINE
                         Nick? Are you up? I can't see a thing, 
                         I took my contacts out.

               Tudor speaks from the bed without moving.

                                     TUDOR
                         Hello, darling. I feel wonderful. 
                         Come and sit beside me, beside me on 
                         the bed.

               Janine hesitates for a second, then walks to the bed and 
               sits down. She can now see that Tudor, although pale and 
               sickly, is smiling ecstatically. He puts an arm around Janine, 
               who reacts stiffly.

                                     TUDOR
                         Do you want to make love? You're 
                         absolutely beautiful, those eyes, 
                         that expression. You're absolutely 
                         the most sexy thing alive. Do you 
                         want to make love?

                                     JANINE
                              (slightly repulsed)
                         Nick, you're so strange...

               Tudor begins to unbutton his shirt with one hand, his other 
               still gripping Janine tightly.

                                     TUDOR
                         You will make love to me, won't you, 
                         Janine? Won't you make love to me? 
                         You start it. Won't you? I think 
                         I've forgotten how to start.

                                     JANINE
                              (now in tears)
                         Oh, Nick, Nick... I can't take this.

                                     TUDOR
                         Please, Janine. Please, 
                         pleasepleaseplease, Janine Janine 
                         JanineJanineJanine...

               Janine hesitantly helps Tudor remove his shirt and begins to 
               caress him in a perfunctory way, tears in her eyes. Her 
               caresses make Tudor moan with pleasure.

                                     TUDOR
                         Love me. Oh, Janine, you're so 
                         beautiful. You're my wife. Mmm. You're 
                         my wife.

               Janine's hand sweeps across Tudor's abdomen. She pulls her 
               hand away, startled, obviously having just felt a few of 
               Tudor's lumps.

               She looks up at Tudor's face with a mixture of horror and 
               wonder in her eyes. Tudor is confused; he doesn't want the 
               caresses to stop.

                                     TUDOR
                              (pleading)
                         You're my wife, Janine. Please make 
                         love to me.

               INT. SPERGAZZI APARTMENT -- NIGHT

               The Spergazzi apartment is very heavily decorated in the 
               Mediterranean European Catholic style, featuring lots of 
               plastic and plaster Madonnas, calendars with Christ exposing 
               his bleeding heart, etc.

               Mrs. Spergazzi lies on an overstuffed couch with her wrist 
               held up for Forsythe to bandage after she coats it with a 
               healing gel. Mrs. Spergazzi wears a suffering-martyr 
               expression. Mr. Spergazzi leans over the back of the couch 
               patting his wife's other hand solicitously.

               INT. INCINERATOR ROOM -- NIGHT

               The steel door at the top of a concrete flight of stairs 
               swings open and St. Luc appears. He quickly negotiates the 
               steps and opens the steel door at the bottom which leads to 
               the incinerator room.

               Once inside, St. Luc grabs the poker hanging from an iron 
               hook sunk into the wall of the incinerator, slides open the 
               bolt on the door and opens it.

               He begins to probe around inside the incinerator oven but 
               can't really see very much. He looks around and notices the 
               superintendent's flashlight stuck up on top of a heating 
               pipe. St. Luc takes down the flashlight, switches it on, and 
               continues his search for the dead parasite.

               INT. TUDOR'S APARTMENT -- NIGHT

               Tudor lies on top of Janine on their bed. Over his shoulder, 
               Janine's face is visible, eyes wide open and full of tears. 
               She tries to push Tudor away, but he resists.

                                     JANINE
                              (frantically)
                         No, no. Nick, please. Stop. Let's 
                         stop. I... I want to put my contacts 
                         in... I can't see anything...

               Tudor pulls her back to him, and finally she is forced to 
               batter him away with her fists and slip off the edge of the 
               bed. Tudor glares after her.

                                     TUDOR
                              (in a mechanical whine)
                         Make love to me, make love to me, 
                         love, love to me...

                                     JANINE
                              (trying to buy time)
                         I want to be able to see us, Nick. 
                         I... I'm going to go into the bathroom 
                         now and put in my contacts, OK? Is 
                         that OK?
                              (pleading with him to 
                              believe her)
                         I want to be able to see us when we 
                         make love, OK?

               Tudor's eyes are staring right out of his head and his mouth 
               is wide open. He gasps for breath. He stares at Janine for a 
               second, then buries his face in the blankets, twisting them 
               in his hands and moaning.

               Janine bursts into tears and turns away from the bed, heading 
               for the bathroom.

               In the bathroom, Janine starts to shake, on the verge of 
               hysteria. Distractedly, she goes through the motions of 
               putting her contact lenses in: opens the medicine-cabinet 
               door, takes out the lens container, takes out the bottles of 
               wetting and soaking solutions, opens the lens container. 
               Suddenly, Tudor wails terribly, like a hound, from the 
               bedroom.

                                     TUDOR
                              (heart-rending wail)
                         Ooooooooooooooooo!

               Janine turns to the door, turns back to the lenses, dumps 
               both lenses out into her hand, begins to squirt solution on 
               them. She has decided to try to ignore Tudor.

                                     TUDOR
                              (wailing)
                         Janine, Janine, Janinnnnnneeee!

               Janine can no longer pretend that she doesn't hear him. 
               Closing her hand around the two lenses, she runs out of the 
               bathroom.

               Tudor lies outstretched on the bed in the darkness. His lips 
               move silently, spasmically, as though in sleep, twitching in 
               an abnormal, insect fashion. There is a swelling in his 
               throat, almost as though he has developed a goiter, which 
               swells and contracts rhythmically.

               Janine appears in the doorway.

                                     JANINE
                              (a strangled half-
                              whisper)
                         I'm here, Nick. Janine is here.

               After a pause, she walks into the room.

               She climbs on to the bed and settles down. She puts her face 
               very close to Tudor's. For the moment, his face is 
               expressionless, but his neck is swollen just under the jaw.

               Janine sighs deeply, trying not to panic. Her eyes narrow 
               suddenly -- she hasn't got her lenses in and her gaze is 
               myopic -- as she notices something odd.

               There is a bit of black something, a thread, in the corner 
               of Tudor's mouth. Janine moves closer to it. The black thing, 
               like the tip of an insect's leg, twitches.

               Janine reaches out to brush the thing off Tudor's lip. As 
               her fingers brush by, the leg twitches back inside Tudor's 
               mouth.

               Janine jerks back in horror, her hands, balled into fists, 
               cover her own mouth as though to protect it from whatever 
               occupies Tudor's mouth.

               Gradually the thread reappears. Tudor's lips part slightly 
               to allow the emergence of the dark, viscous tentacle to which 
               the thread -- a hook used to hang on inside the body -- is 
               attached. The tentacle of the blood parasite probes its way 
               from between Tudor's lips.

               Janine is paralyzed with horror.

               The tentacle is now touching Tudor's chin, his cheek, the 
               tip of his nose.

               Janine's fists tighten even more. A glassy snap breaks the 
               silence. Janine lowers her hands dumbly and opens them. In 
               the right one, the one that held the contact lenses, are 
               incised two bloody circles where her fingers pressed the 
               lenses into her flesh until they snapped. The segmented lens 
               fragments glint in the tiny pools of blood.

               She tries to control the hysteria welling up inside her. She 
               eases herself carefully over the side of the bed as the first 
               stubby tentacle is joined by another and another. She moves 
               a fraction of an inch at a time, almost hypnotized by the 
               movement of the tentacles.

               The hooks of the tentacles are now set into Tudor's chin and 
               cheeks, and the tentacles draw taut as something attempts to 
               draw itself out of his body. His throat bulges, his cheeks 
               swell as the tentacles contract. His lips are gradually forced 
               apart as the quivering, moist shape emerges. His mouth is 
               opened to jaw-breaking width as the creature slowly exposes 
               itself to the dim light of the bedroom.

               Janine's eyes are wide with terror. She utters a gurgling 
               cry and runs, stumbling, from the bedroom. She dashes through 
               the living room and reaches the door to the hallway, 
               whimpering in terror as she fumbles at the lock and the 
               doorknob, finally managing to swing the door open.

               INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT

               Janine runs down a hallway that leads to Betts's apartment, 
               sobbing and stumbling. She gets to Betts's door and opens it 
               without hesitation.

               INT. BETTS' APARTMENT -- NIGHT

               Janine enters Betts' apartment. She looks around for Betts.

                                     JANINE
                         Betts? Betts? It's me.

               She catches sight of Betts standing out on the balcony, 
               looking across at the North Tower's lights. Betts turns 
               slowly. She is wearing immaculate but very extreme make-up. 
               Janine is slightly taken aback -- it's not Betts' style.

               Betts smiles and opens her arms to Janine.

               INT. ROLLO'S LAB -- NIGHT

               Rollo puts his jacket on, picks up his doctor's bag and a 
               manila envelope jammed solid with Hobbes's notes, and leaves 
               his lab, turning off the lights and locking the door behind 
               him.

               EXT. STREET IN FRONT OF ROLLO'S LAB -- NIGHT

               Rollo gets into his car, which is parked in a now empty 
               parking lot adjacent to the building in which his lab is 
               situated. His car is large and American and ostentatious, a 
               gold Cadillac Eldorado with options or equivalent.

               The car pulls out of the lot and on to the street.

               INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT

               The doorman, drooling and twitching, locks the exit doors at 
               the end of one hallway. In one hand he holds an enormous 
               pair of cable cutters.

               INT. INCINERATOR ROOM -- NIGHT

               St. Luc continues to poke around inside the incinerator with 
               the poker. Finally his flashlight beam reveals the tattered 
               corpse of Spergazzi's parasite.

               Deftly manipulating the hook on the poker's tip, St. Luc 
               manages to pull the parasite out into the light. Garbage 
               comes rattling down the chute. When St. Luc flashes his light 
               into the oven, we see that the garbage consists of Betts' 
               French food, half-eaten, silver servers and all, the snails 
               being especially prominent. Insane giggles echo down the 
               chute, followed by the slam of the chute door somewhere 
               several floors above.

               St. Luc holds the thing up to the naked light bulb above the 
               incinerator. The light seems to go right through the parasite, 
               illuminating the twisted vascular system, reproductive organs, 
               etc.

               As St. Luc examines the creature, which is still impaled on 
               the hook of the poker, the door to the incinerator room opens 
               behind him. A large, hairy, muscular man enters the room and 
               approaches the oblivious St. Luc.

               The man slips his arms up under St. Luc's arms and kisses 
               him passionately on the neck. As soon as St. Luc realizes 
               what's happening, he smashes the man in the chest with his 
               elbow and pulls free.

               The man grabs St. Luc again, trying to kiss him on the mouth. 
               They struggle. St. Luc is thrown to the concrete floor. The 
               man tries to pin him down. St. Luc, on the verge of being 
               overpowered, smashes the man in the chest with the poker, 
               parasite still hooked into its tip.

               The man stands up unsteadily. St. Luc cracks him on the ankle 
               with the poker and he comes crashing down. The parasite corpse 
               is flung across the room, where it smacks wetly into the 
               wall and slides to the floor.

               St. Luc leaps to his feet and begins kicking the man in the 
               head. After a furious moment or two, he suddenly stops, drops 
               the poker, and stares at the body in horrified disbelief.

               St. Luc slowly backs away from the man's body, which is very 
               still and quietly oozes blood on to the damp concrete floor. 
               He bumps into the edge of the door left open by the man. The 
               collision seems to startle him out of his daze somewhat, and 
               he turns, himself scratched and bleeding, and staggers up 
               the basement steps.

               INT. SPERGAZZI'S APARTMENT -- NIGHT

               Forsythe waits impatiently for St. Luc. Mr. Spergazzi is 
               watching a variety show on TV and Mrs. Spergazzi is making 
               ravioli in the kitchen, more or less recovered from her 
               encounter with the parasite.

               Suddenly a piercing scream is heard from down the hall. Mr. 
               Spergazzi, hard of hearing, doesn't notice. The scream is 
               followed by bangs, crashes, and insane laughter and giggling.

               Mrs. Spergazzi comes out of the kitchen. She has heard the 
               noises. She and Forsythe look at each other for a moment, 
               then Forsythe goes to the door and slides the chain lock 
               into place. She then goes to the telephone to call the police.

                                     FORSYTHE
                              (into receiver)
                         Hello? Hello?

               She dials a few times, and clicks the receiver button. 
               Nothing. The phone is dead. She puts the receiver back on 
               the hook. Mrs. Spergazzi knows that something is very wrong. 
               She wrings her hands and begins to wail in Italian.

               INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT

               In the hallway outside the Spergazzi apartment, a group of 
               giggling, drooling residents stand around a door.

               One of these residents is the superintendent, who is opening 
               the door with one of his set of master keys. The residents, 
               some of them women, giggle in anticipation. Once the door 
               has been opened, they all rush in, drooling and moaning.

               From inside the apartment we hear several muffled voices, at 
               first angry and indignant, then pleading and terrified. 
               Screams and crashes follow.

               INT. SPERGAZZI APARTMENT -- NIGHT

               Mrs. Spergazzi is getting hysterical; Mr. Spergazzi is trying 
               to calm her down by getting her to sit in front of the TV 
               set with him. But each time he pushes her down, she pops up 
               and begins wailing and moaning again.

               Forsythe paces back and forth, checks her watch, paces some 
               more. Finally, after a particularly noisy outburst by Mrs. 
               Spergazzi, Forsythe picks up the doctor's bag, unchains the 
               door, and leaves.

               Spergazzi hears the door slam and looks up.

                                     MR. SPERGAZZI
                         Miss! Nurse! Come back! Cabiria, she 
                         needs something...!

               He lapses back into Italian, trying vainly to calm his wife 
               down.

               INT. BETTS' APARTMENT -- NIGHT

               Betts and Janine are on the sofa, Janine with her head in 
               Betts's lap, Betts rocking Janine like a child.

                                     JANINE
                              (sobbing)
                         Oh, Betts, Betts, everything is so 
                         hideous. Everything dies and rots 
                         and disappears. I'm going to die, 
                         and you're going to die, and Nick...

               She breaks down.

               Betts is drowsy-eyed and smiling. She strokes Janine's hair.

                                     BETTS
                         There, there, there. It all gets 
                         sorted out in the genes and 
                         chromosomes. It's not for us to think 
                         about at all. It's not our problem 
                         at all, 'Nine. We're just here to 
                         exist and to have a good time. Exist 
                         and have a good time.
                              (pause)
                         Do I feel good, 'Nine? Do I feel 
                         good to you?

               Janine's eyes are red and she still sobs a bit as she speaks, 
               but she is obviously feeling a bit soothed.

                                     JANINE
                         Oh, you feel very good, Betts. You 
                         have such a cosy body. I'm jealous, 
                         I'm so skinny.

                                     BETTS
                              (casually, as though 
                              it were the most 
                              ordinary request in 
                              the world)
                         Make love to me, 'Nine? I want you 
                         to make love to me. Please, please 
                         make love to me.

               Janine twists around and looks up at Betts. There is something 
               in Betts' tone -- quite apart from what she is saying -- 
               that disturbs her, something that reminds her of her husband.

                                     JANINE
                         Betts! You can't really be saying 
                         that! You just can't!

               Betts smiles drowsily. She bends over Janine, turning her 
               head in her hands until they face each other. Betts lowers 
               her face toward Janine. Janine is wide-eyed, almost hypnotized 
               by Betts's strength, smile, and confidence.

                                     BETTS
                         Let's not talk any more, 'Nine, shall 
                         we? Let's kiss and make up. Let's 
                         kiss... kiss and make up, shall we? 
                         'Nine?

               Janine resists only slightly as Betts places her lips on 
               Janine's. After a pause, Betts suddenly opens her mouth wide 
               and presses her lips savagely against Janine's.

               She holds Janine's head firmly as they kiss. Janine struggles 
               for a moment, then opens her mouth as well.

               Her eyes are closed in passion, then suddenly open wide in 
               terror as Betts's throat swells like a goiter as a parasite 
               rushes up her throat toward Janine's open mouth. The parasite 
               begins to force its way into Janine's mouth and down her 
               throat. Janine gags and tries to pull away, but too late.

               INT. INCINERATOR ROOM -- NIGHT

               Forsythe runs down the steps which lead to the incinerator 
               and pulls open the steel door at the bottom. She begins to 
               look around for St. Luc.

                                     FORSYTHE
                         Roger? Roger, are you here?

               She suddenly stumbles across the body of the man St. Luc has 
               killed. She actually has to break her fall with her hands, 
               which slip in the man's blood. Horrified, she gets up and 
               backs away.

               The sounds of people moaning and laughing are coming from 
               everywhere. Forsythe finds herself up against a large door. 
               She tugs on the handle and it opens.

               INT. MAIN DOORS -- NIGHT

               St. Luc has made his way to the main doors and stands talking 
               to the rental agent, Merrick, who is leaning against the 
               intercom board with the doorman's pocketbook romance in one 
               hand.

               The agent looks perfectly normal, though he keeps wiping his 
               mouth unobtrusively with the back of his hand.

                                     MERRICK
                         ...haven't seen anything that looks 
                         like trouble at all. Just filling in 
                         for Walter... the doorman. But if 
                         you want me to call the police, I 
                         will.

               St. Luc is cautious but he seems to believe Merrick. He 
               presses the button which buzzes the Spergazzi apartment. 
               Nobody answers. A middle-aged man walks in. Worried, St. Luc 
               buzzes again.

                                     MAN
                         Apartment 307? Visiting my sister.

               Merrick smiles and opens the door for the man, who goes in 
               and takes the stairway up, preferring to walk.

               The intercom squawks and Spergazzi answers the buzzer.

                                     MR. SPERGAZZI
                         Yes? Who is there?

                                     ST. LUC
                         It's Dr. St. Luc, Mr Spergazzi. Let 
                         me speak to the nurse, please.

                                     MR. SPERGAZZI (V.O.)
                         Oh, but the nurse, she went away. I 
                         think she must go to look for you.

               St. Luc curses under his breath and makes a move toward the 
               door. Merrick smiles and pulls it open for him. St. Luc 
               disappears down the stairs leading to the incinerator.

               As the stairway doors close, the elevators slide open and a 
               young couple come out heading for the main doors, dressed to 
               go out to a late party.

               Before they reach the doors, Merrick slips through them and 
               meets the couple in the lobby. He smiles broadly as he 
               approaches them.

                                     MERRICK
                         Evening, Mr. Wolf, Miss Lewis. I 
                         wonder if I could talk to you for a 
                         second in my office?

                                     MISS LEWIS
                         Why don't you do something about all 
                         that noise? We like parties, but 
                         this is ridiculous.

                                     MERRICK
                         Well, there may be a connection. 
                         See, it's about your locker. 'Fraid 
                         somebody busted into it tonight.

                                     MISS LEWIS AND MR WOLF
                              (together)
                         Oh, no! What a drag!

                                     MERRICK
                         'Fraid so. I've got a few of the 
                         things they threw around in my office 
                         and if you could identify it...

               The couple turn, grumbling, and walk toward Merrick's office. 
               Merrick follows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

               INT. RENTAL OFFICE -- NIGHT

               The young couple enter the rental office, Merrick following 
               close behind. Once they are all in, Merrick closes the door. 
               He rests against the door and drools copiously, then giggles.

               The young couple turn to look at him. Suddenly, three more 
               residents, two women and a man, all of them half naked, jump 
               down on them from the tops of large filing cabinets. The 
               residents begin to kiss and paw the couple. Merrick wipes 
               his mouth with the back of his hand and then throws himself 
               on top of the writhing mass.

               INT. GARAGE -- NIGHT

               Finding herself in the underground garage, Forsythe decides 
               to get in her car and drive out. She finds her car -- a Datsun 
               or Toyota -- gets in, throws the doctor's bag in the back, 
               and drives up the ramp leading to the sliding garage doors.

               The car rolls over the cable which normally activates the 
               doors, but nothing happens. Forsythe puts the car in reverse 
               and backs over the cable, but still nothing happens. She 
               sits with the car idling, trying to figure out what to do 
               next.

               Suddenly the driver's door of her car is yanked open and the 
               doorman, slavering and drooling, throws himself at her.

               The doorman forces her down across the front seats of the 
               car and begins to kiss her on the neck and rip her clothes 
               to shreds. He gradually forces himself between her legs.

               INT. INCINERATOR ROOM -- NIGHT

               St. Luc bounds down the incinerator room stairs looking for 
               Forsythe. He sees immediately that she is not there, but 
               also notices handprints in blood on the door leading to the 
               garage.

               He opens the garage door. Forsythe's screams come echoing 
               through the garage.

               INT. GARAGE -- NIGHT

               St. Luc races through the garage, trying to find Forsythe. 
               He finally sees her car in the middle of the exit ramp and 
               runs over to it.

               The doorman is still on top of Forsythe in the front seat of 
               the car. St. Luc pulls the doorman's gun out of its holster 
               and begins smashing away at the doorman with it.

               The doorman pounds St. Luc in the temple with his fist and 
               lifts himself partially off Forsythe, half turning toward 
               St. Luc, who is staggered by the blow.

               The doorman's face is covered with blood and drool. Repulsed 
               and terrified, St. Luc fires the gun into the doorman's upper 
               body three times, heedless of the possibility that he might 
               hit Forsythe. The doorman slumps over Forsythe.

               St. Luc grips the gun and staggers over to the car. He pulls 
               the doorman off Forsythe, who is completely soaked with blood. 
               She has obviously had an externally rough time, but there is 
               nothing to suggest that she has been infected by the doorman.

               St. Luc shoves her over into the passenger's seat, where she 
               slumps, dazed. He doesn't have to start the car -- it's never 
               been turned off. He slams the shift lever into reverse and 
               backs up, peeling rubber, to the base of the ramp. He puts 
               it into first and begins to accelerate, foot to the floor, 
               toward the garage door.

               Another car full of residents suddenly careens in front of 
               the door and screeches to a halt, blocking St. Luc, who in 
               swerving to avoid them smashes his fender into a concrete 
               post. He picks up the gun from the console between the seats 
               and, opening the car door, empties the gun at the residents, 
               who are emerging from their car.

               One of the residents falls back into the car, blocking the 
               other two.

               St. Luc drags Forsythe out of the car, throws her over his 
               shoulder, and carries her down the ramp toward the door 
               leading to the incinerator.

               INT. HALLWAYS -- NIGHT

               St. Luc half drags, half carries Forsythe along hallways 
               whose doors are wide open. From the apartments issues the 
               entire catalogue of suggestive sexual sounds -- giggles, 
               moans, groans, cries, whispers, shrieks.

               We catch glimpses of people of all kinds and ages locked 
               together on floors, chairs, etc. St. Luc finds an open exit 
               door and plunges through it, taking Forsythe with him.

               INT. GYM -- NIGHT

               The door to the gym opens and St. Luc looks in cautiously. 
               The gym is quite tiny and is deserted. St. Luc pulls Forsythe 
               in and closes the door. He lays Forsythe down on a gym mat 
               and then barricades the door with a box horse and a weight-
               lifting table.

               He kneels beside Forsythe, who seems to be only just regaining 
               consciousness. St. Luc strokes her face, pushes strands of 
               hair matted with blood out of her eyes.

                                     ST. LUC
                              (more to himself than 
                              Forsythe)
                         Rollo'll be here soon. Rollo'll be 
                         here soon.

               EXT. DRIVEWAY -- NIGHT

               Rollo's car pulls up to the main doors and parks in a 
               blatantly illegal space. He flips up a card on the dash which 
               says 'M.D. ON CALL,' then gets out of the car.

               He walks up the steps and through the main doors, which are 
               wide open. Nobody is in sight.

               INT. HALLWAY -- NIGHT

               Rollo walks along the hallway, bag in hand, envelope under 
               arm. He stops in front of Tudor's door, checks the number 
               against the number written in his notebook, then knocks on 
               the door.

               Nobody answers. He knocks once more, then looks around 
               shiftily before turning the knob and walking right in.

               INT. TUDOR'S APARTMENT -- NIGHT

               Rollo enters and closes the door behind him, deliberately 
               slamming it. He walks into the center of the living room and 
               bellows.

                                     ROLLO
                         Hello, good evening, is anybody here? 
                         Dr. St. Luc? It's Dr. Linsky here to 
                         see you for consultation.

               Still no answer. Rollo is puzzled. He snoops around the 
               apartment until he finds the bedroom with its door half 
               closed. He pushes gently on the door and opens it gradually.

                                     ROLLO
                         It's Dr. Linsky. Anybody home?

               Rollo can now see the figure of Tudor lying in bed in the 
               dim light of the bedroom. Rollo enters the bedroom.

                                     ROLLO
                         Is that Mr. Nicholas Tudor? It's Dr. 
                         Linsky. I'm meeting Dr. St. Luc here. 
                         He must be a little bit late.

               Tudor does not answer, does not move. He lies stiffly on the 
               bed on his back, mouth insanely agape, eyes shut, covers 
               half on the floor.

                                     ROLLO
                         Is anyone here? Nicholas Tudor? Is 
                         that you? Tudor? Mind if I have a 
                         look at you?

               He stands at the edge of the bed, peering at Tudor, looking 
               for signs of consciousness. After a pause, he kneels on the 
               bed and slowly draws back the covers.

                                     ROLLO
                         Just a peek, OK? A little peek won't 
                         hurt.

               Tudor's abdomen is gradually exposed as the covers are drawn 
               back. Crouched in the shadows is one of the freshly emerged 
               blood parasites, which sits poised for only a fraction of a 
               second before it springs at Rollo's face with great energy.

               As the thing hits Rollo's face it locks on to his head by 
               entangling its stubby tentacles in his hair and attaching 
               its suckers to his cheeks and chin.

               Rollo tries to stand, then staggers and falls. The thing 
               tries to force its way into Rollo's mouth, cutting his lips 
               in the process. They bleed furiously. When Rollo manages to 
               pull a sucker away, a piece of his flesh comes with it.

               As he writhes on the carpeted floor, two more parasites appear 
               crawling toward him from under the bed, covered with dust 
               from the floor. They clamber on to him and fasten on to his 
               face, suckering on to his ears, his throat, forehead, eyelids. 
               One of them begins to ooze corrosive fluid on to his face. 
               Rollo screams in pain.

               He manages to roll to his feet. He staggers out of the 
               darkness of the bedroom into the living room, one arm 
               extended, groping like a blind man, the three parasites still 
               locked on to his face. They try to pull his lips apart, but 
               he keeps his teeth firmly clenched to keep them from forcing 
               their way into the depths of his body.

               He takes a few unbalanced steps toward the kitchen. With a 
               sudden spasm of pain, he hurls himself sideways into the 
               kitchen and almost falls again, grabbing at the last moment 
               on to the sink.

               His hands touch a large pair of pliers, a screwdriver, and a 
               hammer on the counter by the sink, left there by Tudor weeks 
               ago. Rollo seizes the pliers and begins to pull the parasites 
               from his face with their steel jaws. The parasites, swollen 
               with Tudor's blood, burst and spurt as the pliers tear them 
               apart.

               In the bedroom, Tudor's eyes snap open. His head rises from 
               the pillow.

               He swings his legs over the side of the bed and, ashen and 
               gaunt, shakes his head slowly as though waking from a dream. 
               He begins to mumble.

                                     TUDOR
                         No, no, no, no. Mustn't, mustn't. 
                         You mustn't kill them, no, no, no.

               Then, as though listening to himself and suddenly 
               understanding what he is saying, he rises to his feet shakily 
               and walks to the kitchen. He stops at the kitchen door.

               Rollo has torn the parasites from his face and is pounding 
               away at them in the kitchen sink. The parasites wriggle and 
               curl in their own blood in the sink as he smashes away at 
               them with the pliers.

               Tudor staggers toward Rollo.

                                     TUDOR
                         No, no. You mustn't kill them. That's 
                         my blood you're spilling! My blood! 
                         Let them come home, let them come 
                         home, home, home inside me. Don't 
                         kill them...!

               He starts to paw Rollo, feebly trying to prevent him from 
               further mutilating the parasites. He reaches over St. Luc's 
               shoulder and grabs a large chunk of one of the parasites.

                                     TUDOR
                              (whining pitifully)
                         At least save me one! For God's sake! 
                         At least save me one. One, one, one, 
                         one...

               Rollo turns as Tudor begins to shove the piece of flesh back 
               down his throat.

               As Rollo turns we see that bits of tentacles and suckers are 
               still attached to his cheeks, throat, forehead. His face is 
               melting and smoking in areas where it has been burned by the 
               corrosive fluid on one side. He stares in rage at Tudor.

               With a scream, Rollo strikes Tudor with the pliers. Tudor 
               falls, hitting his head on various chairs and protruding 
               corners as he goes down, the chunk of parasite still in his 
               mouth as he finally comes to rest, twitching, on the floor. 
               Rollo drops the pliers on the floor.

               He stares at Tudor in shock. His face is reflected in a copper 
               frying pan hanging over the stove. Noticing the reflection, 
               Rollo leans over to get close to his own horrible image. He 
               gingerly touches his face, inspecting the damage, shivering 
               and moaning.

               Still shaking, he turns to leave.

               Without warning, Tudor leaps up at Rollo with insane energy 
               and bowls him over, pliers in hand. Sitting on Rollo's chest, 
               Tudor smashes away at Rollo's face and head with the pliers, 
               the piece of dead parasite in his mouth dropping on to Rollo's 
               face as he drools.

               INT. GYM -- NIGHT

               Forsythe finally opens her eyes. She smiles at St. Luc, who 
               hovers anxiously over her as she lies on the gym mat.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Can you walk? I couldn't find anything 
                         wrong with you.

               Forsythe nods and manages to sit up with St. Luc's help. 
               Once she seems able to stay propped up without St. Luc's 
               help, he gets up and begins to move the barricade away from 
               the door.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Rollo and the police should be here 
                         by now. It's just a question of 
                         avoiding infected residents until we 
                         find them.

               St. Luc comes back to Forsythe and kneels beside her.

                                     ST.LUC
                         OK? Ready to go?

               Forsythe puts her arm around St. Luc's neck as though wanting 
               support. Instead, she draws him down toward her and begins 
               to babble in a strange, casual, dreamy way.

                                     FORSYTHE
                         Sometimes I have a recurrent dream. 
                         Have I ever told you about it, 
                         darling? I guess you could call it a 
                         Freudian dream, because in this dream 
                         I find myself making love to Sigmund 
                         Freud. But I'm having trouble because 
                         he's old and dying, and he smells 
                         bad and I find him repulsive. And 
                         then he tells me that everything is 
                         erotic, everything is sexual, you 
                         know what I mean? He has a very thick 
                         accent, but I can understand him 
                         perfectly. He tells me that even old 
                         flesh is erotic flesh, that disease 
                         is the love of two alien kinds of 
                         creatures for each other, that dying 
                         is an act of eroticism, that even 
                         chemicals combine out of sexual frenzy 
                         and longing. That breathing is sexual, 
                         that talking is sexual, that just to 
                         physically exist is sexual... And I 
                         believe him, and we make love 
                         beautifully...

               While she talks, Forsythe gradually slips her arms around 
               St. Luc's neck and brings her lips closer and closer to his.

               St. Luc, mesmerized by the hypnotic drone of her words, is 
               about to kiss her. Suddenly her mouth snaps open wide with 
               mechanical precision, her head tilts back, her eyes flick 
               closed.

               St. Luc stares at her in horror as her throat begins to swell.

               In the depths of Forsythe's mouth two parasite tentacles 
               probe about, seeking a firm hold for their suckers so that 
               they can pull the parasite's body out of her narrow esophagus.

               St. Luc hesitates only for an instant, then rips a strip 
               from her blouse, balls it up, and shoves it into her mouth. 
               Holding her while she struggles to remove it, he rips off a 
               second strip and ties it around her head to keep the gag in. 
               St. Luc rises, throws Forsythe over his shoulder and begins 
               to step toward the door of the gym.

               Dangling over St. Luc's shoulder, Forsythe struggles, moans, 
               and howls as best she can. St. Luc manages to pin her hands 
               to her sides so that she can't pull the gag out.

               Before St. Luc reaches the door, a handsome middle-aged woman 
               peeks in around the corner.

                                     WOMAN
                              (crooning in reply to 
                              Forsythe's howl)
                         Hellooooo? Oooooo? Is there anyone 
                         here who's all alooooooooone?

               St. Luc rushes at the woman, knocking her over. She rolls on 
               the floor, hugging herself and crooning.

               Once out the door, St. Luc makes for the nearest exit.

               INT. STAIRWELL -- NIGHT

               As St. Luc begins to ascend the stairs, we can see tiny black 
               hooks tearing through Forsythe's gag. Blood begins to soak 
               through from the inside.

               A group of residents suddenly appear at the next landing 
               above St. Luc and, noticing them, begin to walk down the 
               steps, moaning and crooning and making vaguely sexual gestures 
               toward the pair.

               Blood is now pouring from Forsythe's mouth and tentacles are 
               groping for leverage at her cheeks and chin.

               St. Luc decides to attempt to shoulder his way up the stairs, 
               certain that Rollo and the police must be at the main doors.

               As he hits the residents on the stairs, they try to kiss 
               him, caress him, pull his clothes off. They finally manage 
               to drag Forsythe from his shoulders, almost unbalancing him 
               as they do so. St. Luc tries to prop her up on her feet, but 
               she's completely limp. St. Luc holds Forsythe against the 
               stairway wall as residents mill all about them. He looks at 
               her in sudden hopelessness.

                                     ST. LUC
                              (shouting)
                         Forsythe! Forsythe!

               The parasite is now half out of her mouth, hanging through 
               the slit it has torn in her gag.

               St. Luc lets go of Forsythe and she sinks to the floor. The 
               residents are swarming all over them. St. Luc abandons 
               Forsythe and begins to fight his way up the stairs.

               He runs higher and higher, up flight after flight of stairs, 
               until he is free of the slow-moving residents. He leans back 
               against a wall, panting.

               Crooning and moaning echo up to him from below. He leans 
               over the railing and looks down.

               In the stairwell several flights below, Forsythe lies 
               surrounded by milling residents, legs spread as though about 
               to give birth. A resident leans over and pulls the parasite 
               from her mouth, then swallows it whole with gusto. Other 
               residents touch her, stroke her, caress her, as though 
               offering her a strange kind of comfort.

               St. Luc reels with disgust and disbelief. He turns and runs.

               INT. SWIMMING POOL -- NIGHT

               Between the two towers lies the swimming pool. St. Luc manages 
               to reach the door leading from the South Tower into the pool. 
               He hangs on to the door of the pool itself for a moment in 
               near exhaustion, then opens it and enters.

               The pool is dim and tranquil. Two women are swimming in the 
               deep end as though nothing were at all abnormal.

               St. Luc watches them for a moment, enjoying the apparent 
               normalcy of the scene. Then he staggers forward, calling out 
               to the swimmers.

                                     ST. LUC
                         Have you seen the police? I'm Dr. 
                         St. Luc. Have you seen the police? 
                         Have they come?

               The swimmers both flick playfully beneath the water's surface. 
               St. Luc approaches the water's edge, waiting for them to 
               surface. The water ripples and bubbles near his feet. A 
               sinking feeling comes over him. He watches in horrible 
               fascination. He begins to shiver.

               The ripples and bubbles spread and intensify. After a pause, 
               Janine surfaces, smiling radiantly. A few seconds later, 
               Betts surfaces near her, the very picture of benign, watery 
               calm. Betts gestures to St. Luc to join them in the pool.

               St. Luc shakes his head slowly, backing away from the pool.

               He turns to leave the room. As he turns, Mr. Spergazzi appears 
               out of the shadows behind him. Using his four-pronged aluminum 
               cane, he pushes St. Luc backwards into the pool, chuckling 
               playfully.

               Spergazzi looks around for approval as St. Luc begins to 
               thrash about wildly.

               Betts swims up beside St. Luc, grabs him, and holds him under.

                                     BETTS
                              (to Janine)
                         A kiss!
                              (laughter echoes in 
                              the pool room)
                         Give him a kiss. Give him a kiss.

                                     VARIOUS RESIDENTS
                              (voices echoing in 
                              unison)
                         A kiss, a kiss, a kiss!

               Betts allows St. Luc to rise to the surface as a laughing 
               Janine splashes over to him and fastens her mouth to his.

               As they kiss, Janine's hands hold St. Luc's head fiercely. 
               Betts assists her by pinning St. Luc's arms behind him. 
               Janine's throat ripples and swells, her cheeks billow as a 
               parasite swarms upwards from deep within her body. St. Luc's 
               cheeks now swell as the parasite enters his mouth. His eyes 
               jolt open in terror and he manages to pull away slightly, 
               revealing the tentacles joining her mouth to his like 
               grappling irons.

               St. Luc twists out of Betts' grasp. He and Janine, still 
               locked together, sink beneath the surface.

               Dozens of residents pour into the pool room and join Spergazzi 
               and the others at the poolside. Among these are faces already 
               familiar to us: Kurt, Kresimir and Benda, the old laundry-
               room woman, etc.

               The new spectators clap, laugh, croon, and moan as though 
               witnessing a wild group baptism. Some of them throw themselves 
               into the water, pulling others in with them.

               Deep under the water's surface, St. Luc still struggles to 
               free himself from Janine. Residents now splash into the depths 
               all around them.

               St. Luc's cheeks bulge wide and blood dribbles from his nose 
               and mouth. His throat swells monstrously. Janine releases 
               him just in time for us to see the end of a tentacle slip 
               back into his mouth. He exhales heavily as parasite enzymes 
               pump furiously through his body. The water boils with his 
               exhaled breath.

               Janine and St. Luc drift apart, now completely calm, as 
               residents splash and swim, kick and embrace.

               INT. STARLINER TOWERS UNDERGROUND GARAGE -- NIGHT

               The vast and dimly lit garage is full of silent cars. 
               Somewhere an engine starts up, then another and another, 
               until the whole garage is full of fumes and the revving of 
               engines.

               As we prowl amongst the cars we find many of the residents 
               we already know, now dressed to the teeth in their seductive 
               best.

               Mr. Spergazzi and his wife stand and watch the spectacle, 
               canes in hand, with great dignity. With them stand others 
               who are too old or too young to go into the night looking 
               for new hosts for their parasites, content to remain 
               incubators for the time being.

               The residents are full of bubbly anticipation in their cars. 
               Kresimir leans out of his car and shouts to no one in 
               particular.

                                     KRESIMIR
                              (shouting)
                         Nobody should be alone! Nobody should 
                         be alone tonight!

               The rest of the residents pick up the cry and chant together.

                                     RESIDENTS
                              (together)
                         Nobody alone! Nobody alone!

               The night watchman stands near the garage doors. Smiling 
               broadly, he stamps on the cable which activates the sliding 
               doors.

               EXT. STARLINER TOWERS -- NIGHT

               The garage doors slide open. One car surges up the ramp ahead 
               of all the others, stopping at the top.

               The driver of this first car is St. Luc, sleek and exuberant, 
               a raised collar and a scarf hiding most of his scars. He 
               glances into his rear-view mirror.

               In the rear-view mirror, St. Luc sees all the other cars 
               lining up behind him, lights blazing.

               St. Luc smiles, then steps on the accelerator. His car shoots 
               out into the street.

               As St. Luc's car turns on to the street, car after car follows 
               him. We rise higher and higher above the Starliner Towers 
               apartment complex until the cars are a small stream of lights 
               far below, bleeding into the main body of the neon-lit 
               metropolis.

                                         THE END